Saving a Lost Boy
by cora001
Summary: A distant sound washed over her, forming a chorus with the steady beat of magic that followed her around. The sound of children crying for home. She had no idea how she knew that, but she did. She knew that the scream that was lodged in her throat belonged with their cries. Melanie was as lost as any of them.
1. ONE

ONE

…

Emmeline held onto the ship's rigging with all her might as it plundered into the chaotic whirl of the portal. Portal-magic was incredibly unpredictable, and she had no desire to be tossed off the deck and into limbo. Not now that she was finally on her way to the Neverland. Though she'd shut her eyes against the frigid wind, Emmeline could hear the others also struggling to stay aboard.

With a resounding pop, the pressure on her body lifted and the ship splashed into the Neverland waters. She released the ropes with a shaky sigh. They'd arrived. Her heart stuttered. After years and years of searching, the idea that she was closer than ever to her brother was a tad surreal.

 _Tommy_.

Frustrated voices butted into her thoughts - arguing coming from the main deck. After a beat of confusion, Emmeline moved to see what the commotion was about, but before she could, Regina's startled breath snagged her attention. Emmeline spun around, and her jaw dropped.

The Neverland rose proudly amidst blankets of cool blue sea, the island covered in greenery and crowned by a sleeping volcano. The beach, a thin stretch of black sand, was surrounded by rocks and peeking corals. It wasn't what she'd been expecting. Gray skies and barren land with some ugly jagged spikes, perhaps. A scenery that would match the cruel nature of the island's leader.

Even from a distance, Emmeline felt the magic – his magic – radiating from the island like a beacon. It pulsed in the back of her head, unwelcome, invading her senses with the smell of lightning and tropical flowers. Her limbs locked, as it dawned on her that everything she saw – _felt_ belonged to him.

Pan.

Before the Evil Queen's curse had struck, when Emmeline had still been searching the Enchanted Forest for her missing brother, Rumpelstiltskin had told her of Peter Pan and his lost boys. He'd suggested that the shadow who'd kidnapped her brother just might be the one who answered to Pan. Though his accounts of them terrified her, Emmeline had set out to find the Neverland.

And now, here she was – preparing to face the most powerful, mischievous magic-wielder of the known worlds to save her brother.

She was grossly overmatched.

"Well, mates," Hook's voice pulled her from her thoughts, "welcome to the Neverland."

Emmeline peeled herself from the railing, turning away from the island, and followed Regina down to the main deck where the others had gathered.

"Okay, we're here." Snow clapped her hands together. "What now?"

"Pull in the sails for me, love," Hook called from behind the wheel.

" _Don't_ call me love."

"Wait, what?" Regina barked. She pointed at Snow. "Don't move. We shouldn't be slowing down. We're not close enough to the beach yet."

"Yeah, well, we're not going to the beach," Hook said matter-of-factly. And Emmeline wondered whether he could've taken that tone if he'd been close enough to see the fury pooling in Regina's eyes. "I was hoping to maintain the element of surprise," he explained. "If we sail into the island, upriver, we might have a chance of avoiding some unpleasant—" he paused to choose his next word, " _company_. At least for the time being. It'll take us as far as the main waterfall and then we're stuck on foot."

"Or," Regina said, hands twitching at her sides, "I could transport us straight to Pan and skip the hiking altogether."

"You can't." The murderous glare Regina unleashed on her made Emmeline wish she could pluck back her words and swallow them dry. One couldn't simply tell a distressed mother – let alone a powerful, magic-wielding mother – that she _couldn't_ save her son. Not without losing treasured limbs.

"What," Regina bit out.

"I – I mean, surely you can feel the magic coming off the island?" She waited for confirmation, but Regina's face gave nothing. Emmeline swallowed. "It's warded against outsiders. Pan controls magic here and – and maybe using it will trigger his defenses. Let him know we're here—"

"And take away the element of surprise," Hook finished with a smug grin. Satisfied with their current course, he made for the deck and started pulling in the sails. "I like this girl," he said, covering his mouth in a mock whisper.

Regina's face turned an alarming shade of red.

"Then we'll go upriver," Charming said. "Stealth is our upper hand. Let's use it."

"You trust the pirate?" Snow frowned.

The tension sparked dangerously high, and Emmeline decided things could get worse if she didn't intervene. "Sail upriver, avoid lost boys, and plan a stealthy rescue," she said with a weak smile. "Sounds like a plan."

"Sounds like a plan," Emma echoed. She'd been absently scanning the island while the others argued, only half-interested in their conversation. She wore a look that Emmeline knew too well, one she'd seen too often in the mirror to mistake. Hope.

Emmeline's insides plunged into icy water. She wished she could talk to Emma, honestly and openly. The blonde was perhaps the only one in the entire world who understood what Emmeline had gone through – _still_ went through. But befriending her came at a cost. Even though they'd allowed her to tag along, she wasn't a real part of their effort to save Henry. Her promise to Tommy came first. And in a way, that set her apart from them. If the chance to save her brother came, she'd do anything to grab it. Even betray them.

She just hoped it never came to that.

Sufficiently subdued, everyone walked off to deal with their own pent-up tension. Emmeline pressed up against the railing and watched the island, the relief of avoiding a real fight seeping out at the sight of the trouble that lay ahead.

"You'll find him, honey," Snow murmured, her voice so soft and sweet that Emmeline didn't even startle to find her leaning beside her.

She spared a glance at the older woman before her attention strayed back ahead. Snow gave out calming maternal vibes even when she wasn't trying. And it irked Emmeline who'd gone without the love and attention of a mother for so long. A gentle hand spooked her just as much as trembling fist nowadays.

She pulled away from Snow. "I hope I'm not too late," was all she said.

…

Emmeline wrung water out of her hair, cursing the wretched mermaids and the storm that had ruined a perfectly good ship and plan. So much for stealth.

She supposed she should be grateful the Savior lived up to her title; if not for Emma, their bones would now decorate the bottom of the bay. Rumpelstiltskin, on the other hand, had been no help. He'd bailed ship seconds before the storm hit under the pretense of being the only one capable of saving Henry and beating Pan. Emmeline was familiar with his reputation as The Dark One, and it wasn't noble or selfless. She didn't trust him one bit. He was, however, immensely powerful and probably their best shot at defeating Pan, so she was sad to see him go.

After slogging onshore, cold and wet and miserable, Emma hit them with a speech about needing their combined skills and cooperation to get Henry back. She was a natural leader, savior. But Emmeline noticed how she glossed over rescuing Tommy. As they trekked through the jungle, she realized that no matter how pure-hearted and good Emma and her parents claimed to be, they wouldn't sacrifice for her brother. They were fine with her tagging along, and they would bring her back if she managed to find Tommy in time, but that was where their generosity ended.

The idea that her _skills_ might be called upon at any moment sent a shiver of fear down her spine. It had been ages – ages – since she'd sung. And not since…

Emmeline raised trembling fingers to the jagged strands of her hair. The magic of the island pumped around her like a steady drumbeat, drowning out her rational thoughts until only bitter fear lingered in the back of her throat.

A memory of her home tickled the back of her mind. Empty stomachs, cold winters, and her mother's strained but stern warning _, "Men kill for that sort of power, Em. Don't let them know, don't let them see. Otherwise, they'll hurt you and Tommy to get it."_

Though her hands and neck were clammy from the stifling jungle, Emmeline felt suddenly cold. This – this was foregoing all her mother's advice. It was gambling everything on the chance she could save her brother without giving away her secret.

But what if she couldn't?

Her chances were slim at best without the added concern for self-preservation. To save Tom, she had to be willing to sacrifice her freedom. Forever.

"Move along, lass." She felt the pirate's cool metal hook on her back.

Emmeline hadn't noticed she'd slowed her pace, the burden of her thoughts weighing her down. The heat and humidity were suffocating in this part of the forest. Beads of sweat rolled down her back and hair. Once, her locks had reached the small of her back, the weight of them fixing her to the ground. But not anymore. _And never again_ , a cruel voice whispered in her head. She winced. Though she knew in her heart it was true, it did not make letting go any easier.

"Where are we headed anyway?" Charming said, butting in on her thoughts. "How are we even tracking Henry here?"

Good question. How come she hadn't thought of that sooner? Did they even _have_ a plan now? She couldn't recall one being laid out, just Emma's pep talk at the beach about unity and combined forces which, no matter how inspiring, wouldn't get them to Pan.

"We're not tracking him," Hook answered. "There's no use tracking footprints and broken twigs, the lost boys are experts at concealing their movements and they've got –"

"So we've been prancing around like fools all day!" Regina halted, crossing her arms. "We have magic to do the tracking, why can't we use it? My son is in danger right now –"

"We've been over this." The pirate ran a hand down his face. "No magic."

"Bullshit."

"Regina is right." Emma placed a placating hand on Hook's chest. "We can't very well scour the entire island on foot like this, especially if we can't track them the normal way –"

Hook's gaze was soft on her, "You don't get it, love. Pan owns magic here. The more we avoid using it, the better are our chances of surviving."

"So, what? We wander around until we land jackpot?" she didn't sound convinced.

"We don't have to. We know where Henry is."

"We do?" Emmeline said, wondering how long she'd zoned out of the conversation up until now.

"He's with Pan."

Regina rolled her eyes and muttered _genius_ under her breath.

"Then wouldn't we be better off drawing Pan's attention?" Snow asked.

"Believe me, we don't want Pan's attention." His tone left no room for argument. "The little devil has a camp concealed by magic on the island. Once we find it, we find Henry and the other boy."

"You just said we can't track anything," Emmeline frowned. "How do we find this camp?"

Emmeline had never quite understood the appeal of pirates but when Hook dashed a roguish grin at her it became clear. Her mother would have described the gleam in his eyes as spirit - something not many had. Emmeline would describe it as bravery and recklessness. And there was a certain allure in that brash danger. "Luckily for us," he answered, "I've spent centuries on Neverland, and learned a few things. Trust me." He winked and motioned for them to follow him.

"Great," Regina grumbled.

They picked up the pace behind him, but Emmeline suspected it was only for lack of a better idea.

Dusk arrived swiftly and in the span of two hours, it was entirely too dark to continue walking. They set up a fire and gathered some soft-looking leaves to lay on, Regina announced she'd be taking the first watch and disappeared into the brush leaving the rest of them to fidget idly in place. Emma sat down and stared at her hands while her parents argued softly by the trees. Hook busied himself with the fire, but Emmeline caught him sneaking glances at the Savior every now and then. She was too tired to try to place any meaning on it though.

Arms and legs aching, Emmeline folded herself into the most comfortable position she could find - which was still very uncomfortable - and shut her eyes. But though her body was tired, her mind whirred at full speed. The pulsing of the island's magic didn't help clear her head, and when sleep did come, hours later, she was completely exhausted.

…

A quaint cottage with yellow wildflowers peppering the entrance. The smell of pine trees and a fireplace. The laugh of a child and the faint lilt of a song.

All so familiar. So familiar – but just out of reach.

Why couldn't she place it?

Emmeline's feet moved of their own accord, carrying her behind the house, under the hanging laundry, around a stone fence. There a child, no older than five, played on a makeshift swing. The little girl rode the swing higher and higher, unworried and untroubled. Emmeline stopped and stared. A buzz nagged her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind adamant on placing the girl, the house, the trees.

 _Why?_

In a fit of giggles, the little girl leaped from the swing mid-air and landed on wobbly feet. An invisible string pulled Emmeline stumbling after her and her heart lurched. As she drew closer, Emmeline noticed the girl had flowy hair, brown like wet earth. The child was fine, but before Emmeline could sigh in the girl perked up and dashed back to the cottage.

By the time Emmeline reached her, the girl was kneeling under a window with a small bluebird in her hands. The animal's wing bent at an awkward angle and it squawked in pain. It must have flown into the glass, but how the girl knew it would be here remained a mystery.

Emmeline sat next to her, grimacing. The bird wasn't going to make it. She had to convince the girl to let it go, but her round worried face gave Emmeline pause. It was too serious - too intelligent for a child. Then the girl began to sing and, just like that, the barrier in Emmeline's mind shattered. The girl had an airy, pleasant voice that filled the space with lyrics in another tongue. Somehow Emmeline understood them perfectly.

 _Heal. Grow. Restore._

All living things surrounding the girl - flowers, trees, insects - flushed with renewed vigor. And the girl's hair... glowed. A purplish haze enveloped it and spread down her arms to her fingers and, finally, to the little bird. Its wing popped into place and it hopped up in her hands, chirping delightedly.

Dread washed down Emmeline's lungs like poison. She scrambled on her hands and knees, desperate to get up – to get away from her. The girl, however, didn't spare her a glance. In fact, it was like she wasn't there at all. She launched the bluebird into the air where it circled her, beating its wings rhythmically and joining her in song. Emmeline's breaths came short and fast, almost choking. The beating of the wings grew louder and louder until –

She woke with a start, sucking in mouthfuls of air and pushing her hair off her face. The vegetation around her cast twisted shadows unto their camp. Emmeline scanned the darkness for the others – all sound asleep.

All except one.

Emma was missing.

A distant sound filled Emmeline's ears, a chorus of the steady beat of magic that followed her around and the sound of children crying for home. She pressed her hands to her ears and shut her eyes like it would keep them out of her head. It didn't. She had no idea how she knew they were children or what they wept for, she just did. Like she knew that the scream lodged in her throat belonged with their cries.

Emmeline was as lost as any of them.

…

 _Author's note- If you're new to this fic, welcome! If you're an old reader, you might be confused. Let me clear things up for you. I'd been trying to finish this story for over 3 years now (crazy, I know) and it just wasn't going anywhere. I spent a long time trying to understand why I couldn't finish it (followed by some very guilty feelings) until I realized I started this 3 YEARS AGO. My writing has grown so much since then and this story was stuck with very poor choices I'd made in the beginning. It was dragging me down. So, for the sake of seeing this through to completion, I've rewritten all the previously published chapters and I'll be uploading them one by one. There have been some plot changes, some name changes too, but the spirit of the fic remains the same!_

 _I hope you'll join me for the ride again. And if not, thank you for all the support you've given me along the way. It has been invaluable. XOXO_


	2. TWO

TWO

…

They stared at the blank parchment with varying degrees of frustration. _Technically_ speaking, it wasn't blank. _Technically_ , it held a map that would lead them straight to their loved ones. But it was a gift from Pan. Emma had told them about his visit the past night, his taunting, mind games. The _bloody_ map that was only a blank piece of paper. That was getting them nowhere near rescuing anyone. That had them all standing in a circle gawking like fools.

Emmeline wasn't sure what to do with the knowledge that Pan had been nearby while she'd been having a nightmare. While she'd been so vulnerable. And the mysterious cries, were they his doing?

It didn't matter, really. The fact that he'd found them in less than a day, despite the sheer size of the island, shouldn't have surprised her. He had magic, and unlike them, had no reason to hold back from using it. But his coming forward with the 'answer' to all their problems – especially considering he was their source – was clearly sketchy. He'd promised the parchment would reveal the way once Emma stopped denying who she really was. Fine. They'd sat all day in a circle trying to help her do just that.

Was it working? No, not at all.

Emmeline was certain Pan was off somewhere laughing himself sick at their cost.

Regina looked likewise frustrated, clicking her tongue and clenching her fist every time Emma focused on a suggestion to no avail. Emmeline felt a pang of pity for the Savior. Pan's demand was hardly straightforward; how did one admit who they really were? People were not _something_ , plain and simple. There were layers - feelings, beliefs, purpose, flaws, hopes, fears - so that everyone was a bit of something.

Mother. Daughter. Lover. Ally. Enemy.

Human.

No one put their dark parts out on display for all to see and judge. No one wanted to own it, the weight they carried through life. Breaking down the defenses protecting that shame wasn't done overnight. Most people spent entire lives without managing to clear away all the walls.

The only reason Emmeline wasn't as exasperated as the Evil Queen was because Emma's guilt struck too close to her heart. Emmeline had denied and concealed her own nature since her mother's death, but now that mask had to fall so she could fulfill her purpose. She needed to embrace herself, wholeheartedly. Her brother's life depended on it.

But knowledge didn't change the gnawing fear inside her. It didn't make the mask any easier to shed. Quite the contrary, it seemed to stick harder every time she tried to pull it off.

Yes, watching Emma scrunch her face in concentration at the map, Emmeline understood the answer to their problems would not come swiftly or easily – if it came at all.

...

After some shouting and insulting, Regina convinced the group to abandon Hook's wisdom, and use a tracking spell on the parchment. There was no point in keeping a low profile, Pan was already aware of their presence. He could track their movements, why not flip the game? That sounded good enough to the Charmings.

Hook followed the floating parchment with reservation. He'd warned them against breaking Pan's rules – there would be consequences. But logic would only restrain two mothers searching for their son for so long. He was hopelessly outvoted.

The pirate walked tense, eyes scanning their surroundings as if waiting for an ambush. Every leaf that shook around them earned suspicious looks from him.

Emmeline agreed with his reasoning; he was the only one who'd faced Pan before and lived to tell the story. Sure, circumstances had been different, but Hook had more experience than any of them with the island. It was unfortunate that being a pirate made his advice unworthy to the Charmings.

Emmeline hugged herself, trying to fight the chill as night fell. She was convinced the island was trying to kill them; the mornings were unbearably hot, dehydrating and exhausting, and the evenings freezing. She was at the back of the group, trudging despite the twinges of pain in her side. A day of hiking up mosquito-infested trails had her worn out, but she fought to keep vigilant and awake.

A clearing opened ahead, and the group reduced their pace. Emmeline prayed for a break, a short one, just to take her feet off the ground and wipe the sweat from her brow. She would never ask for one, of course – she wasn't crazy from dehydration yet. They would keep moving until the map had led them to Henry (and Tom), and she wouldn't get left behind.

Telling herself to suck it up and hurry, she accidentally knocked into a frozen Snow in front of her. "Are we stopping?" she asked, trying to keep the wistfulness from her voice. But then Emmeline sensed it, something odd and prickly in the air around them. Everyone else had noticed, too. They all stood in place, holding their breaths and waiting.

"Henry!" Emma cried out and rushed forward.

The pulse of magic rose abruptly to a volume that made it impossible to ignore, and Emmeline's nose filled with the smell of electricity and too-sweet flowers.

Pan.

Her skin burned, and her mind yelled run. Run. _Run_. She didn't get the chance to though. Just as her legs unstuck, blurring figures advanced on the clearing, and she received a blow to the back of her head. Her body didn't hit the ground like she expected. Instead, the world tilted and reeled as someone threw her over their shoulder. She wanted to scream, to cry for help, but had no voice. And even if she did, she doubted any of them would save her now.

They had Henry, so their mission was complete. They were going home.

Acid squelched in her stomach. She was a failure – had failed Benny. A lone tear slid down her cheek and, as her vision darkened, all she thought was _I hope I die_.

Otherwise, she'd be living her worst nightmare.

...

Peter Pan was thrilled.

Everything was going according to plan. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the heart of the truest believer was finally in sight, beating close enough to touch. And the Savior's pathetic attempts to rescue her son were nothing more than that – pathetic. The game was set exactly how he'd planned it; every pawn had fallen into place and taken up their role.

Sure, the Dark One was here. Minor detail. He'd be rid of the lad soon enough, and then sweet, mighty immortality would be as good as his.

 _And after that_ – he cut his thoughts short. He'd have plenty of time to figure out how to bask in his unmatched power when the time came.

He smirked and turned to face his second in command, Felix, who had arrived to deliver the report on their ambush. Felix stood at attention, hands behind his back and face stoic. If not for his troubled gray eyes, he would be the picture of a perfect commanding officer. However, there _was_ unease in him that shouldn't have followed such a marvelous victory.

"We have a problem," Felix said, not quite meeting Pan's gaze.

"What?"

"During the ambush, there was a girl –"

"A girl?" Pan's forehead crinkled in a frown.

"Yes. A new one," he said. "I knocked her out."

"Good to see you haven't lost your way with the ladies," Peter Pan scoffed. He tapped his foot impatiently. "Why is this a problem, Felix."

His second swallowed, shifting on his feet. He disliked seeing Pan unhappy, especially if he was the deliverer of the bad mood, but it had to be said. "The girl has magic. Strong magic. When we attacked, she practically glowed with it."

"Impossible." The corner of his lips twitched dangerously. "There are only four magic-wielders on this island, including myself. Four players. I made sure of it, even scouted our guests' camp last night. There was no one else, Felix."

Silence. But Felix's features still held poorly masked apprehension. Peter Pan paused; his second was not easily wooed by magic, he'd seen it a hundred times over during his stay under Pan's rule. The boy was used to it by now, bored even. If this girl could unsettle him when Peter Pan no longer could...

Trouble.

Or a challenge.

"Introduce me to your mystery girl, Felix." A crocodile smile, and then, "I'd love to give her a warm welcome."

Felix rose back to attention, bringing his hands to rest on a key at his hips. "Sure thing, sir. She's waiting for you right now."

Green eyes gleamed. "Excellent."

…

 _"Five, four, three, two, one," he chirped, uncovering his eyes. "Ready or not, here I come!"_

 _The boy pushed off the tree, and ran around the garden, giggling. His mother stood nearby, hanging clothes on the line. She watched fondly as he circled the cottage, looking for his big sister, far too noisy to be inconspicuous._

 _The twelve-year-old girl pressed her back into the rough wall, crouched, and held her breath, commanding every muscle in her body to still. She heard the boy's laughter echo off the cottage walls and used all her willpower not to give into it._

 _Abruptly, his giggles stopped. The girl's heart lurched, she stepped out of her hiding place with a worried frown on her face when she was tackled from behind._

 _"Aha! I found you," the boy cheered, jumping on her back._

 _The girl pushed him off, a crimson blush on her cheeks. "It didn't count, you cheated."_

 _"Did not."_

 _"Yeah," she said, crossing her arms. "Well, you tricked me. I thought the game was over, and that means it doesn't count!"_

 _"Your mistake," he sung, skipping circles around her, "is not my problem. The game is until someone loses, it's in the rules."_

 _"You don't know the rules, cheater."_

 _"Am not." His smile dropped, replaced by tight lips and tiny shaking fists._

 _"Are so," she shot back._

 _He shoved her with all his seven-year-old might, and it took her three steps back. Embarrassed and angry, she pushed him back. She did not, however, stop to measure her strength versus his petite body._

 _The boy skidded on the stone floor, scraping his hands and knees. There was a moment of stunned silence in which she recognized her mistake in his large watery eyes._

 _If he cried, and their mother came..._

 _The girl dropped beside him, and fussed over his hair, trying to distract him. She was in so much trouble; she was the eldest, acting childishly, especially when she was supposed to look out for her brother, was not something she could get off easily._

 _"Hey, it's okay," she shushed him. "Just a little scrape, it's fine. I'm sorry, I promise, okay?"_

 _He nodded, but his eyes remained red and his lips pouty._

 _"You're so strong, such a big boy. You're not gonna cry, are you?"_

 _She pulled him onto her lap and rocked back and forth. She started singing, humming really, to try and soothe him into silence. At some point, the melody shifted into a song ancient and powerful, one she didn't recollect learning. The air around them shifted, pulsing and glowing purple, and her brother's cries ceased. They shared a confused look, then he raised his palms, so she could see them._

 _Healed. Not a pink scratch where, before, there had been blood._

 _"How did you fix it?"_

 _"I – I don't know." She nudged him off her and stared at her own hands like they might give her the answers._

 _"Huh, well," he smiled, rubbing away at the tear-trails on his cheeks. "Your turn to count?"_

 _Their mother turned the corner, a basket balanced on her hips. She had a gentle face that always sported a smile, big or small, and lovely brown hair._

 _"Tommy," she said in a warning tone, "give your poor sister a break. Maybe she wants to do something else."_

 _The girl blinked at her mother, still trying to shake off the jittery feeling inside her bones. When Tommy tugged on her fingers, smiling as big as the moon, all thoughts of songs and scrapes vanished._

 _"She wants to play, don't you Em?"_

 _"Sure, kid." She scooped him into her arms, earning a 'be careful' call from their mother, and ran out into the front yard. She dropped him on the steps and turned, counting, "Twenty, nineteen, eighteen …"_

…

When Emmeline awoke, dazed, she was inside a small bamboo cage. She ignored the gongs ringing in her head and scanned her surroundings as best as she could in the dark. The cage was not big enough for her to stand in without hunching over but it did allow room for some movement. By the lurching and swinging that upset her stomach, she believed it was hung off the ground.

Emmeline couldn't tell how long she'd been out, though judging by the stars still blinking in the sky she hoped not long. Maybe a few minutes, an hour at most. Perhaps she could still catch up to the group, convince them to give her more time, to help her save Tom.

 _It's useless_ , her mind hissed, _you're stuck in a cage. Prisoner's don't lead rescue missions._

Even if she managed to get out, a highly unlikely prospect, she'd still have to... fight off lost boys? Find her brother in Pan's camp without raising alarm? Smuggle him out?

And then what?

If Emma had found her son she was certainly very far from here now. Emmeline had no transportation off the island and without it, plotting was pointless.

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit_. She was trapped. A prisoner. Worse than dead.

Her thoughts were cut short when the cage rocked to the side. Emmeline closed her eyes, willed her limbs to hang limp, and prayed that it wasn't _him_. She wasn't ready to face him yet, she wasn't strong enough.

The cage thumped onto the ground, and she banged her head but didn't dare move a muscle to show pain. Her whole body trembled with the force it took to restrain her cry.

"This is it?"

Pan.

Emmeline had no doubt, she could feel the raw power of the island radiate from him in hot waves.

"She doesn't look magical to me," he scoffed.

Her heart pounded in her ribcage, and she was sure it would give her away. He knew she had magic? But how? Could he feel it like she felt his?

"Believe me, she was glowing when I knocked her down. Sucking magic from the air," another male voice replied, "I thought she might burn the trees, the boys – the whole bloody ambush."

Strange, she hadn't called on her magic. Wait a minute – ambush? That meant Henry hadn't been there for real. It was just a trick, a clever trick. Pan wouldn't have given away his prize so recklessly. The others were still out there. There was still hope for Tom. For her.

"Interesting," Pan conceded. She heard shuffling, and then his voice much closer, "There's something odd about her. Her magic feels different, it feels," a poke of magic prodded her heart, "dormant."

"What now?" the other boy inquired.

She heard steps, calm and calculating.

"It seems like I have to reset the board, there's a new player in the game."

…

Sometime during the night, she must've fallen asleep because she woke to sunshine, and the background noise of boys yelling and playing together.

The sun shone through the canopy of leaves, illuminating her surroundings. Her cage had remained on the ground after the encounter with Pan – if she could call it that. Emmeline sat up, feeling momentarily dizzy, and put a hand on her head. The sound of children came from a distance, not too far but not close enough for her to see them. They sounded happy and alive, completely different from the wails she'd witnessed at night.

What was that all about?

She heard shuffling to her left and turned, there was a boy with a wooden club guarding her. He wore dirty clothes that hung off him like they were too big, and some type of animal skin coat. Emmeline wondered how he could stand wearing it when the island was scalding hot during the day, but then she realized it wasn't at all. Not here in Pan's camp. Magic was at work, regulating the temperature and humidity so the lost boys didn't suffer from the climate as the crew did.

 _The crew._

She had to contact them, tell them she'd survived, tell them she was exactly where they wanted to be. They needed information and she would acquire it, she would save Tom and Henry. Maybe they'd been going about beating Pan all wrong; they couldn't overpower him here, where his magic was strongest, but they could still outsmart him. _If_ they were clever. And she would be.

She needed to get out of her cage and gather information. Emmeline needed to give Pan no other choice than to let her out. He knew she had magic, but he didn't understand it, so he'd taken her for a powerful adversary. Maybe she could manipulate his respect for her power to her advantage.

But first, Emmeline had to gain some followers. She had to win over some lost boys.

"Hey kid," she tested out her voice. "What's your name?"

...

Her plan wasn't as easy to fulfill as she'd hoped. Though her guard appeared no older than ten, he was incredibly disciplined and determined. He didn't so much as blink when she called for him.

Emmeline spent her morning stretching as far as she could in the small cage. Her legs were numb, her back sore and she was terribly thirsty. Though she called for him all morning, he remained perfectly silent. Pan had these kids well trained, she had to admit.

She worried for her brother who'd been here for so long. Would he recognize her? Would he still love her? Was he the Tommy she knew or another one of Pan's brainwashed soldiers? Emmeline pushed those thoughts away. Focusing her full energy on the plan was the only way she would maintain her sanity.

Around noon, another boy appeared, this one older-looking than her previous guard. He took over the post, leaning on a large tree and fiddling with something in his pocket. The first guard disappeared through the vegetation, and Emmeline took to observing her new one.

Overall, he was very much like the other one. Dirty face, too big clothes, the air of an orphan. But something was different about him. Though he looked older on the outside, his eyes shone with the special innocence of children. Whereas the other kid looked like an adult trapped in a child's body, this one looked like a kid playing soldier.

Age was deceiving in Neverland; this guard appeared a younger spirit, perhaps he was a newer recruit. If he'd spent less time on the island then Pan's influence on him was weaker, or so she hoped. This was the target she'd been waiting for.

"Hey, kid," she called, pressing her face to the bars, "what's your name?"

He glanced around as if unsure if she'd addressed him, "I'm not supposed to talk to you, you know. You're a bad person."

"Am I?" she kept her tone naive, hoping to lure him in. Thankfully, it worked. The boy edged closer, watching her with curious eyes. He had freckles across his nose and cheeks, curly ginger hair and the roundest brown eyes she'd ever seen.

"Why else would Pan put you in a cage?" he clapped back, but Emmeline saw she had his attention. She'd sparked him with intrigue and wonder, two of the most valuable childlike qualities. Neverland might seem like paradise, but it wasn't. The children didn't stay young forever, not on the inside.

"Because we're playing a game," she confessed, a smile tugging up her lips. The lies rolled off her tongue seamlessly. "And I want to win."

"What sort of game?"

"Well, it's kind of a secret," she told him. "You'd have to be on my team to know." Like she expected, his lips turned down in disappointment. "But... I guess I can tell you one thing. And if you help me, you can play with us!"

He nodded eagerly, "Okay."

"I have to get out of here," she gestured to the bars. "That's the first challenge."

The boy's excitement dimmed suddenly, his eyes dropping to the floor. "That's too hard. There's no key, only Pan's magic can open the cage. See? No one can beat him at his games," he muttered. "You should just give up."

"You don't think I can do it?" Emmeline asked him.

"He just too powerful," he shrugged like the odds were not in her favor.

"I'm powerful too," she huffed in mock hurt, "but in a different way. I can transport you away without you leaving the spot."

 _Gods, help me._

"No way," he cried. "That's impossible."

"Yeah way," she laughed. "I'll prove it. Tonight come back here and I'll work my magic on you. You'll see I'm right."

The boy stood up, grinning from ear to ear. Leaves rustled to her left. Another boy had come to take over her guarding.

"Hey," she whispered quickly, grabbing his hand through the bars, "you never told me your name."

"I'm Liam."

"Pleasure to meet you, Liam. I'm Emmeline."

…


	3. THREE

THREE

…

 _Two empty stomachs growled._

 _In the flickering candlelight, shadows seemed to prance on the walls, and the smell of bread and meat drifted over from the neighbor's open window, overpowering the small bedroom. A girl and her little brother sat together on the bed, both in their nightgowns, gazing up at the stars. They pretended they weren't hungry._

 _It had been a long day, they'd spent the morning at the market trying – and failing – to sell the eggs their hungry chicken had produced. While their heads cooked under the midday sun, their mother had stayed at home, spinning until her fingers bled, trying to finish an overdue delivery._

 _Suffice to say, no one in the household had succeeded that day._

 _Money was scarce, the girl understood. They'd sold their old cottage months ago and moved to the center of the village where her mother could find more customers. Already she took on more jobs than she could handle. Every day, long after the drunkards and tavern girls had retired, when the candles were but stubs and the sun peaked the horizon, her mother still sat at the spinning wheel. The woman's hands were permanently callused and red._

 _Yes, circumstances had the girl mature faster than she deserved._

 _It had been years since she'd received a letter from her father, who'd been drafted for the Ogre's War, and she feared the worst. The village had lost many husbands and brothers to the bloody affair, the field officers rarely sent notices to the families anymore. Whenever her brother asked for his father, her mother would smile and ruffle his hair, telling him he'd be home soon. Sometimes Emmeline thought her mom actually believed that._

 _The girl hated it, hated hearing the lie and recognizing it as one. She wished for the blessing of ignorance and gullibility, so she could chase away the perpetual nightmares from her mind. Gory fields and dilacerated soldiers and trampled corpses. Gaunt faces and empty stomachs and sleeping on sidewalks._

 _Fear had made itself at home in her bones, she could no longer distinguish between the reasonable and the paranoid. So she just worried all the time._

 _In a twisted way, worrying felt good. When she couldn't go out and look for her father, when she couldn't get them more money, when she couldn't disentangle her mother from the spinning wheel, worrying felt like doing something. And something was better than nothing._

 _Nothing felt hopeless, despairing. Emmeline would not allow herself the luxury of despair – she would not frighten her little brother. He didn't deserve that. So, she shared the crumbs of food they had like she was parting a fancy meal, she made going to the market to sell eggs a game of who could hold a customer's attention the longest, and at night she eased troubled thoughts._

 _"Where do you think dad is right now?"_

 _The wistfulness in his tone carved her heart from the inside out._

 _Emmeline let the stars hold her gaze, certain that her brother's blue eyes would pull tears from her the moment she met them. She couldn't have that._

 _"I know where he is," she lied, forcing the words out of her mouth. She made herself believe them, only in part for Tommy's sake._

 _"You do?"_

 _"He's out on the battlefield, dressed in full armor, and brandishing a steel sword." She pushed excitement into her voice, even though it threatened to choke her. "He's looking down at the ugly, beastly ogres, and he's thinking of you. He's thinking, 'I can't go home until Tommy is safe,' and then he's facing them head-on. Because the image of your face makes him feel like a hero."_

 _"Really?" he yawned._

 _She looked at his bony hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes and held in a sob. A summer breeze could blow him away for all the weight he had on. But his face held the same hopeful smile of their childhood, and it did wonders to her. It hooked her heart and carried her to memories of happier, simpler times._

 _"Of course, silly," she said, tickling him. Delighted giggles and an eye-crinkling smile shone up at her. "Every time he rides into battle, slashing ankles and bringing ogres to their knees, he thinks of you and our family. When they beg for his mercy, he gives them quick deaths because he's not a killer, he's a protector."_

 _"I wanna be a protector too," Tom snuggled on the rough pillows, eyes closed. "When I'm big like you, I'm gonna fight the ogres with dad. We'll protect you and mommy and the baker and Mrs. Danford and," yawn, "and…"_

 _"I'm sure you will, Tom. You have the makings of a great hero."_

 _He smiled, pleased. "Tell me more about dad."_

 _So she wove him a fantastic tale filled with adventure and bravery. Their dad was a hero who defeated armies of ogres through her words. He rode a valiant black steed, cape flapping in the wind, reducing enemies to bumbling cowards. But he didn't fight for the kings and queens, she told him, he fought for their family, and that made all the difference._

 _"When you fight for love, instead of glory and riches," she said, playing with his hair on the pillow, "you gain extra power. You become unbeatable."_

 _Her words made their father a legend who would finally bring peace to their lands. And even though it wasn't entirely true, the father she'd described brought peace to his dreams. Tommy's breathing evened out and he let go of the tension in his limbs._

 _It was worth the sick aftertaste the lies left on her tongue._

 _"That was enchanting, darling. Absolutely captivating." Her mother leaned on the doorframe, eyes bright despite the wrinkles adorning them. "Storytelling – it's a real gift, you know?"_

 _Emmeline carefully climbed out of bed, pulling the threadbare covers over Tom's shoulders. When she looked at her mother again, she was amazed at how, even with red-rimmed eyes and a gaunt face, she was still breathtakingly beautiful._

 _"I do have a useful gift, mother," she reminded the older woman. "If you'd let me use it, we could get more money to –"_

 _"No," her mother's tone breached no argument. "Your magic is not for sale. You're not for sale, remember that. Bad people will want it and they'll try to convince you it's worth it, but as soon as you walk away they'll hurt you. You can't let that happen."_

 _She rolled her eyes. "We need the money –"_

 _"We don't," her mother said, a sad smile on her face._

 _"Don't lie," Emmeline huffed, "I know we do."_

 _"We don't need it more than we need you."_

 _Emmeline sighed, defeated and tired of arguing when all she wanted was to hug her mom until all the pain dissolved and they could both sleep lighter._

 _"You're a marvelous storyteller, darling," the older woman breathed, brushing Emmeline's hair off her forehead, "your imagination is your greatest gift. You're a lot like him, you know." Her mom kissed her cheek._

 _"Who? Tommy?"_

 _"Your father, he could tell tales so captivating you felt like you were living them and not hearing them. That's how he won me over," she chuckled. "I've always liked going somewhere even when I couldn't leave my spot."_

 _Emmeline's lips twitched in a half-smile, almost afraid that letting herself be happy would break the spell of calm that had settled over them. But when she lay to sleep, she let her mind run wild concocting new worlds, people, and adventures. It lulled her into dreams she didn't want to wake up from._

…

She heard them before they reached her.

Night had fallen, nippy and dry, making her yearn for warm clothes and a fire. After a day of overthinking her strategy, Emmeline was pleasantly surprised by the sound of shuffling feet and nervous whispering approaching her cage.

The handful of lost boys that had come were extremely young – not on the outside, but on the inside. They had the open gaze of children, bright-eyed and transparent. They hadn't learned to hide their souls from their eyes yet, and it was disarmingly endearing. A few boys regarded her cage cautiously like she might pounce on them if given the chance, but they sat before her all the same.

An inconvenient voice in the back of her head whispered that she was hurting these kids, pulling them unaware into her own problems. Pan was not a lenient fellow, if her plan didn't work, any lost boy who associated with her would pay.

 _Tommy_ , she reminded herself, _think of Tommy_.

"I hope you don't mind. They wanted to see, too," Liam said, gesturing to his friends. "Can you show us the magic now?" The others nodded earnestly.

"Are you all ready?"

"Yes, miss," a blond boy quipped from the back.

"Okay." She ignored her erratic heart and rubbed her palms together for warmth. Her plan rode on getting this night correct. If she messed up, she would doom Tom, herself, and all these kids.

Panic clawed up her spine. What if she'd lost her touch? It had been years and years since she'd told a story. And maybe she'd never even had a touch. After all, a mother's praise isn't impartial.

The lost boys looked at her expectantly and, despite the cold, her hands were clammy.

 _They're orphans, they know no love or family other than Pan's. They know fear, discipline, obedience. They haven't had a mother to soothe their scrapes, a sister to tell them bedtime stories or a father to teach them._

Emmeline met their gaze. She would offer them a tale of love, of family and hope that it would awaken their empathy. And maybe give them a bit of peace.

"Once upon a time…"

…

Her stories became part of a routine. As soon as the sun set, one of her new friends would take over guard shift, and when the stars flickered to life, a group of lost boys would sit down for a tale.

During the day she would think up a new character, villain, scenery. She would draw plots and twists. She would imagine how to entrance her audience. During the evening, she would color her thoughts with words, and kidnap the boys to treasure islands, desolate kingdoms, monster caves – always something different to take their minds off the Neverland and Pan. It appeared to be working, little by little more boys joined the group.

According to Liam, they were curious to meet the prisoner with the magic voice that stole you away. Magic voice – he'd coined that term. He introduced her to new boys, as the girl with magic on her tongue. The fates enjoyed a fair share of irony, it seemed.

For four days straight, she'd held nightly sessions with no repercussions, no Pan. It was disappointing. She had to up her game.

Emmeline scanned the boys before her now, as she'd done the previous times. No Tommy. She'd been tempted to tell Liam about him, but was too scared of giving away her position to Pan. Who knew where he had ears? The thought of saying Tom's name aloud and tying him to herself, a prisoner, still gave her pause. That would have to wait.

Another thing that would have to wait – contacting the crew. There was no uncomplicated way to do it from inside a bamboo cage. If she had magic that could send messages (which she didn't), using it would attract Pan's attention, and she didn't want that. She couldn't write a letter for lack of tools and lack of means to deliver it. And she still hesitated at the idea of recruiting a lost boy for the task. She'd had them under her influence for too little time. She'd yet to see a clear shift in allegiance.

Despite the apparent lack of progress, Emmeline was pleased with her plan. It felt like doing something. And something was better than nothing.

Eventually, Pan would have to come see her again, she was confident in her ability to disturb his peace and ensure it. When he did, phase two would commence, and that's where either her plan would work perfectly or crash irreparably.

Looking at the gleeful lost boys in front of her, the prospect of failure wasn't as intimidating as it should've been. Their smiles were smiles she'd seen on another face throughout her life, and the familiarity was empowering, assuring.

And a little dangerous.

She couldn't afford to care for these boys. There were too many factors cluttering her game, she didn't need more. But it was hard to remember that when she was finally feeling like a big sister again.

…

Emmeline watched the last boy slip through the trees, feeling proud of her story, the fifth one so far. As she touched her forehead to the cold bars though, she wondered how long she could keep spitting out original ones to hold her audience. _An issue for the morning_ , she told herself. She folded the soft fur coat she'd been wearing into a pillow, ready for sleep. One of the lost boys had given it to her two nights ago, when she'd shivered during a tale, and the kindness of the gesture weighed on her conscience.

About to lay down, Emmeline noticed a sharp taste in the air and a buzz in her ears. She perked, eyes scanning the clearing, hands fisted in the coat, and realized the usual guards were missing from the posts by the trees. She was alone.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Emmeline jumped, banging her head on the ceiling, and twisted around to see Peter Pan strolling towards her. He was... not what she was expecting. For starters, he was about her age. She'd always pictured him very young and a tad devilish. But although there was an impish quality to his face it was muted by a frame of ash-blond curls that gave an illusion of saintliness. Her mouth dried the moment their gazes crossed, and she saw guile and cleverness in him that did not enter heaven.

"A lovely tale, lass." His eyes were magnetic, impossibly green, and she found herself shuffling closer to the bars, unable to break from them. "Warmed my soul."

 _Wake up!_

"You have one?" She forced an innocent smile on her lips.

He laughed.

 _Odd._ Emmeline had braced herself for a Pan that was angry, rough and... not as good-looking. It was hard to see beyond the angelic exterior which, she guessed, was what made it the perfect disguise for a demon.

"I like you," he said, eyes gleaming.

She rolled her eyes, an impressive feat considering the trouble she was having keeping her remaining body parts under control.

Pan lowered himself onto one knee in front of her cage, his face mere inches away from hers, and smiled. She blushed involuntarily but refused to flinch, she would not grant him more power over the situation. "Tell me, love," he breathed, "did you think your little story-club would go unnoticed?"

"I hoped not."

His smirk faltered at the confidence in her tone. But before she could appreciate the fleeting victory, his lips stretched again, and his eyes hardened. "Why?"

"You know."

"The game?" He raised his eyebrows. "I did wonder where you were taking that lie."

"What lie?" she said, cocking her head to the side. "We are playing a game. Haven't you noticed yet?"

He furrowed his brows and studied her, and she saw genuine curiosity in him – like her boldness had slapped him in the face. She guessed nobody had slapped Peter Pan in the face in a long time. He seemed unsettled. "I do love games," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.

"Great, you're gonna have a lot of fun with this one." She wrapped her hands around the bars that imprisoned her, "Open the cage."

His smile was full of smoke and lighting, "No. That doesn't sound right."

"But it's only fair. I won the first round."

Pan sprung up from his crouched position, hands twitching at his sides. Emmeline hated that she had to press her nose against the bars to see more than his legs.

"I've made some friends, very nice boys," she continued, "who are very fond of my opinion –"

"Don't oversell, love. They're fond of your stories," he scoffed.

"Well, I would hate to give them a wrong impression of you."

From her sitting position, she could catch the gentle flaring of his nostrils. "Do you think a few boys mean anything, lass? I have hundreds," he leaned forward, "losing five kids won't change the tide."

"You're right." She tapped her chin. "Maybe under normal circumstances, this wouldn't even qualify as a minor nuisance. But you've got a big game to run with lots of players to keep track of and scheming to do. Why add to your worries a few rebelling boys?"

He barked out a laugh, "Rebelling? You think you can make my boys rebel against me? After you've known them for a week – less? My, oh, my. Someone has a high opinion of herself." She blushed. Emmeline's pulse thundered on her neck and she was afraid he could see it, hear it. "I think I'm safe, lass. You can stay put."

She felt her cloak of confidence slipping and dug her nails into it harder. _Not now._

She made her lips quirk up to one side. "This is your move? Really?" She crossed her arms to hide tapping fingers. "I'd never pegged you for a gambler. In all the stories, it was _calculating Pan_ , and _conniving mastermind_. You know, the usual crap. But I have to say, gambler?" She shrugged. "You've surprised me right there."

"Did you really think this would work?"

 _Please, please, please._ "It already has."

"I could just kill your friends," he said, without an ounce of feeling. "It would save me the trouble of containing them or keeping an eye on you roaming my camp."

Emmeline looked down at her feet. "I don't want to roam your camp. You can drop me nicely outside it."

She felt his face suddenly too close for comfort. A tingle ran down her spine. His breath was warm when he said, "Oh no, I couldn't bear to see you leave, love."

Emmeline bit down on her tongue, counting ten seconds before looking up at him. "Infatuated already?"

His face lit up with mischief and danger, but it was so unlike Hook's roguish charm. Pan's was too intelligent and plotting, too self-aware, to be anything but intimidating. "Perhaps I should kill _you_ ," he said, almost like an afterthought. "And save myself some trouble."

And maybe she should've been more scared, staring the devil in the eye. But Emmeline was so tired of cowering and hiding, and she was closer to her goal than ever before. The thought of dying, as long as it was keeping her promise, sparked something akin to freedom in her veins.

"If the idea was truly appealing, I wouldn't be sitting here now. You've had more than enough chances to kill me. You haven't. That can mean one of two things; you're either incapable or unwilling to do it." She paused. "So which is it?"

She saw his eyes, so close to hers, widen a fraction and his lips press together. "You forget the popular third option," he said, running a finger down her cheek through he bars. "Maybe I'm just waiting for the most entertaining moment to do it." He left with an infuriating smirk on his face.

"That's not a real reason," she said before she could filter out the edge in her voice.

"It's a grand reason." He turned around and walked backwards. "Want another one? Ever heard of hostages, love?"

…


	4. FOUR

FOUR

…

Her dreams were plagued by angelic curls and devilish eyes; inescapable no matter how much she tossed, turned, or prayed to wake up. When she finally awoke, she regretted abandoning the safety of sleep. Demon eyes were nothing compared to this – four hungry-looking teenage boys carting her cage off to gods-know-where and raking her with their eyes.

Emmeline flinched, pulling the fur coat tighter against herself. Invisible critters crawled over every inch of skin they ogled. The boys had scar adorned faces, cuts thin and thick, that stood out gruesomely when they leered at her. The part of her that wasn't busy completely melting down wondered whether they'd been carved before or after coming to the Neverland.

The trees grew less dense, allowing rays of light to pepper the path with spotlights, and Emmeline had to blink tears every time one blinded her. The sound of children ahead, laughing and arguing, hit her like a train to the chest. Executed then.

She strangled the bars with white-knuckled hands and told herself that of the worst case-outcomes this was still the best she could hope for. But then she pictured Tom, her Tommy, standing in the crowd, watching her die, and her pulse sputtered.

She cursed her useless, useless magic. If only she could conjure fireballs, lift objects or turn people to stone, she wouldn't have to meet her end as a hapless wimp. But healing? Was she supposed to sing Peter Pan's nasty soul clean?

The four teenagers carried her into a clearing ringed by thick trees and bustling boys. Emmeline recognized a few faces from her bedtime stories and as they waved happily at her, she tasted bile. On top of disappointing, her mother, her brother, and herself, Emmeline would also crush the dreams of all the little ones who'd believed she was magical.

 _Splendid_.

Why had all her life revolved around this routine disappointment? She'd spent years believing her magic was worthless and hindering. It forced her to hide, to worry, and never once protected her. And no matter how hard she'd tried to convince herself otherwise, you couldn't make it in a magical world off wits alone without being terribly outmatched. Like now.

As soon as she was set down, a sharp whistle silenced the chatter in the clearing. Lost boys encircled her cage, elbowing their friends in the side and whispering, waiting for the entertainment to begin. She knew Pan had arrived when their eyes widened with anticipation.

His voice was misleadingly bright when he asked, "Do you guys know who this is?"

Some kids nodded enthusiastically, but the older lost boys were more familiar with this routine. Emmeline noticed how their faces remained still as stone. They knew the wrong answer would bring down Pan's wrath.

"I know her, sir."

Emmeline scrambled to see who'd spoken, limbs uncoordinated and lungs filled with acid. Liam.

 _Oh, no_.

"That's the storyteller," he paused, bit his lower lip. Then added, "the prisoner."

Peter Pan moved into view, resting a hand on top of the cage. "You're right, she is a prisoner." He motioned for Liam to crouch with him and look at her.

 _What have I done?_

"Prisoners are bad people, aren't they?" he asked the boy. Liam hung his head and nodded meekly. "Is she bad?"

"No." Liam's voice wavered but his spine straightened. "She's actually very nice, she tells good stories." He turned his brown eyes to her. "She's not bad."

And just like that, Emmeline realized this wasn't the lesser of the bad outcomes. She didn't like the idea of dying and leaving Liam and the others to suffer. She'd come to care for them in the brief time they'd shared. Pan knew it and he'd set it up against her. His features barely contained his pleasure for the situation.

"You're right," Pan smiled, standing up. Emmeline was glad to see she wasn't the only one shocked by this announcement. "She's very nice, very sweet. An all-around charmer, aren't you, love?" he purred. Emmeline, stunned, didn't have the presence of mind to gag at his pleasantries. "Don't you think so, guys?" he addressed the crowd, earning some hesitant nods and wary glances. "Come on," he laughed, waving his hand and disappearing her bars. "She doesn't bite, I promise."

Emmeline shielded her eyes from the brightness, disoriented by the lack of bars and feeling suddenly naked. The bars, she realized, had served as much for her protection as for theirs.

"I need to be honest with you," Pan said, placing a hand on his chest. "I made a mistake when I locked her up." Some older lost boys looked at each other, confused. Pan admitting a wrong? This was new. "When we met, she was with the bad people, adults," he twisted his face in revulsion, and she saw how the kids started nodding more vigorously and smiling up at him. Of course, orphans and abandoned kids would hate grown-ups. Pan knew he was winning them over. "But I was wrong. She was their prisoner, not their friend. And by a stroke of luck, she's been saved by us. Isn't that great?"

The little ones were all but leaping with excitement, impressed by his words and feeling like rescuers themselves. All she'd worked for, the trust she'd earned over five nights, was useless if Pan made it out looking good. Not only good, a hero. There was no way they'd support her in a rebellion now.

Peter Pan turned his charming smile on her, eyes glinting with a challenge. _You wanted out of the cage_ , they seemed to say, _you got it_. He offered her his hand, and she froze, considering her options. Refusing him now, in front of everyone, would show ungratefulness after he'd apologized and declared her free and safe. She would lose any support she had from the boys.

He raised an eyebrow, smirk infuriatingly taunting. He'd offered her the next move: set them as enemies or allies in the eyes of the lost boys. _Choose wisely_ , his eyes said.

She placed her dirt-stained hand tentatively in his. This was far from ideal, but she couldn't afford to lose the reputation she'd carefully crafted. The final stage would have to wait.

Pan tugged her up in one fluid movement and snaked an arm around her, pressing her against his side. Her back protested from spending days hunched over, and her body protested from being close to Pan, but she tried to smile for the boys' sake.

"From now on, she's a guest at our camp, so be nice to her." Pan locked eyes with her, smile widening. "She'll tell you stories, listen to your issues, soothe your scrapes. I guess, she'll be like the mother you all want badly."

Cheers erupted, and a sea of boys rushed forward to hug her, calling for her attention and tugging on her hands. Emmeline looked up from the little ones and saw the older boys hanging back in the crowd, wicked eyes set on her. Bile rose in her throat and the world started spinning.

No, no, no, no. This was all wrong. It was too much, too soon. She needed space, she needed to think, she needed—

Pan placed a light kiss on her forehead and disappeared. And she felt it seal her fate. She felt all the hope and plans slip from her fingers, dread settling in their place. She was never going to escape.

…

"We can't just do nothing," Snow said, burrowing her hands in her hair. They'd been having the same discussion for days, and everyone was sick of it but Snow. Despite her meek looks, she could be a persistent, annoying woman when the situation called for it.

"Yes, we can do nothing." Regina rubbed her temples. "In fact, 'nothing' is all we've been doing on this blasted island. That and getting ambushed by toddlers, I guess."

Snow shook her head, struggling to find the right words to convince the others. She had to convince them. "We can't abandon Emmeline. We brought her here that makes her our responsibility."

"She begged to come. It was her choice and she knew what she was getting into."

Charming stepped in between the two women. "We're heroes," he said. "We don't abandon people in need. I don't see why we can't save her and Henry."

Snow beamed at him, relieved someone had taken her side. So far, no one else had spoken up, and she wasn't sure if it was out of fear of Regina or her.

"By all means, if the opportunity to save the girl shows up we will," the former Evil Queen promised. "But I will not risk Henry's safety for hers."

"We won't. We have a way," Snow said. "Pan told us—"

Hook butted in, "There's the flaw in your plan, love. Your information came from Pan, and the little devil can't be trusted."

Snow rolled her eyes, about to tell the pirate off for interrupting, when Emma said, "He's right, we can't trust Pan." She looked at Snow with an apology in her eyes. "Henry is the priority. I won't risk that."

The frustration inside her threatened to blow. Why couldn't they trust her on this? She loved her grandson, she would never do anything to put him in danger. This _wouldn't_ put him in danger.

"We need to help her." Snow's eyes darted around their camp, but no one would meet her gaze. "Her magic could be handy!" She winced, hating having to imply that the girl's value was in her usefulness. But something had to get the group to cooperate with her. Anything.

"We have plenty of magic here. Savior magic," Regina answered. "That's enough to get the job done."

"But—"

Emma placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mary-Margaret, I hate the idea of her suffering. I really do. But Pan knows we want to save her, and he wants us to get sidetracked. We can't afford that."

"I understand," she said. "But this is the best lead to Henry we have. Pan offered us the chance to save Emmeline, and she's at his camp and so is Henry. Hook said so."

"I did, didn't I?" the pirate said, rubbing his chin.

"It's a trap," Regina snapped. "How many times do I have to say it? He wouldn't make this easy. We are not wasting efforts on a suicide mission."

Snow felt her will deflate at the hard set of Emma's jaw. There was no budging her. Snow White was afraid of what the Neverland would take from her daughter's heart, the sacrifices that could lead her down a dark path in the future.

Feeling the argument had ended, the others moved on to check supplies and pretend to be busy, only her husband remained by her side. Together they watched the embers of last night's fire go out.

She tried to tell herself all would be well, but it sounded weak even to her hopeful ears. They were heroes, weren't they? Where was their sense of hope?

She'd challenged that title, hero, since Storybrooke. Since killing – murdering Cora. And she'd tried to rationalize it before to no avail. She had protected her family, but now her heart was permanently stained. And even though she would do it again, with no second thought, that's not what she wanted for Emma. Her daughter shouldn't have to make these decisions.

Snow White wished it hadn't come down to this.

…


	5. FIVE

FIVE

…

 _Her mother was ill._

 _Emmeline was not surprised; the woman had been wearing thin for some time now. Her hair had grown weak and gray, her hands unsteady. Her mother's once beautiful face was hollow-cheeked and pasty against the pillows. She hadn't left the bed for more than a week and each day her condition worsened along with her stubbornness._

 _"Let me sing to you," Emmeline would plead each night. "Let me make you feel better."_

 _"No." Her mother would insist it was too dangerous. The neighbors would suspect something if she got up the next day rosy and strong when this disease had taken all its victims so far. "Protect your brother," her mother would repeat, eyes trailing the cracked ceiling. "Make sure you heal him before he shows any symptoms. Don't let them suspect."_

 _Emmeline would nod, biting her lips and drawing blood. She would not cry in front of her mother who needed her to be strong. She fluffed the pillows, tucked in the sheets, lit a lone candle, and spent every evening telling her mother stories. Her mother fell asleep quickly, weak and tired from the illness, but Emmeline told the stories to the end all the same._

 _Their neighbors called a physician to pay them a visit, insisting on taking the bill, but the girl knew better than to think them kind. They wanted a verdict on her mother's health, so they could press for her to be moved to the quarantines. The whole village was terrified of this spreading illness, this plague._

 _The physician, a gangly old man with a crooked nose, knocked on their door early one morning and pushed past her without greeting. Emmeline detested him immediately. As soon as he laid eyes on her mother, he froze on the threshold and refused to step inside her room._

 _"I can examine her just fine from here," he said, clutching his leather bag against his chest._

 _Emmeline let out a long breath through her nose. All she wanted was to smack him upside the head and tell him to leave, but she couldn't make a scene with Tom in the next room. So she stretched her lips into a painful smile and asked him for his conclusions._

 _"She's got it," he announced somberly, "the plague."_

 _Aren't you bright? She rolled her eyes. "And?"_

 _"And she'll be dead in a week."_

 _It was nothing she hadn't suspected, but hearing it announced so bluntly made her chest cave in. Suddenly, there wasn't enough air in the room._

 _Her eyes strayed to Tom's closed door. Had he heard the man? She gritted her teeth. "What can you do for her?"_

 _"Nothing," he replied, backing towards the front door. He regarded her with a mix of apprehension and disgust. "Get your affairs in order, missy. Looks like you'll be taking over from now on."_

 _Affairs? She was a fourteen-year-old. She had no affairs, no businesses, no nothing. Nothing, she had nothing. How was she supposed to raise Tom on nothing?_

 _Oh, gods. We'll be orphans._

 _"Wait," she said, jumping between him and the exit. "What am I— what should I do?"_

 _The man huffed. "Do you have family around here? Call them."_

 _"We have an uncle but..." she suppressed a groan, "he won't take us in. Father didn't like him."_

 _The man moved faster than his age should allow, his hand shooting out and twisting the door handle behind her. "Make amends and say you're sorry," he grumbled, "beg if you have to." He shoved her out of the way and banged the door, leaving her in the empty hall looking at her hands._

 _Her father had had a terrible relationship with uncle Owen. Emmeline had few memories of visiting the man before a big fight. Ugly words were thrown around, fists flew, and she never saw him again. She caught her father grumbling about Owen a couple of times after that, showing her mother letters, crumpled in his angry fists._

 _Now, what?_

 _She did not expect to be received with open arms by Owen, but she had to try. If not him, who would care for them? Two homeless orphans weren't a blessing on anyone's doorstep. Just two more mouths to feed and bodies to clothe, an expense no one could spare. At least Owen was their family, their blood. He had a moral obligation to them, and he was filthy rich._

 _Emmeline braced one hand on the wall to support her weak knees. The fates, cruel and unloving, had hacked at her foundations. She felt herself crumble, helpless, impotent. She was a child. How was she going to raise her brother? How was she going to live without her mother? Steel squeezed her windpipes._

 _Magic came at a price, that was common knowledge. Her hair, her magic – somehow, this was the price she was paying for it. In the moment, a temptation to run to the kitchen, grab a knife and chop off every last strand of hair settled on her stomach._

 _"Em?" Tommy._

 _She wiped her cheeks swiftly. "Yeah?"_

 _The boy's concern dissolved instantly. He was far too young to see through the pretend. Oh, how she envied that. And how she longed to protect it._

 _"How do you make tea?" He was all round eyes and pursed lips._

 _She almost laughed at how inane tea was, considering everything else in their lives at moment. "Why? Do you want some?"_

 _He shook his head, "I think mom might."_

 _She blinked at her precious little brother. There was not an ounce of despair, hurt or defiance in his face. To him all would be well – their mother would recover, and their father would come home. She couldn't bear to break the news to him yet._

" _That's brilliant," she said, eyes prickling. "Go into Mrs. Wells bushes, you know the ones?" He nodded. "Grab some leaves. I'll boil the water."_

 _He dashed outside, and she watched him go with a heavy heart. Soon, it would be just the two of them against a cruel, unforgiving world._

…

Okay, so she needed a new plan.

Emmeline worried at the insides of her cheeks while she watched the lost boys work around the clearing. The sky darkened to welcome nighttime as she sat and watched and thought. She thought hard.

Pan was clever, cleverer than she'd given him credit for. He'd flipped the game and made sure to leave her alone and powerless in the process. To the boys, she was no longer a prisoner, no longer mistreated. Convincing them of Pan's ill-intent now would be next to impossible, which meant her threat of rebellion was smoke.

She needed a new plan.

"Mom."

Emmeline winced. That word… it was a knife scraping down her spine. She turned to the boy, "Yeah?"

"Can you tell us the one about the ogre tonight?"

"Sure."

He beamed, and her stomach turned. Guilt. Pan had wanted to make her feel guilty; naming her their 'mother' was the way to do so because involving love in anything was sure to tie one's hands. Love listened to no logic, it was all-consuming and instinctive. It always came with strings attached. If she asked them to fight for her now, the worry for their safety would weigh her conscience. Because someone would get hurt, it was inevitable.

Tom and Henry or the lost boys.

Pretty straightforward. Tom was the reason she'd come to the island in the first place, he was her brother and she loved him. Except – except now when she pictured his rescue, she saw herself dooming innocent boys in the process and that made it so much harder.

 _You promised mom. You promised Tommy._

She was snapped out of her thoughts by a prickling on the back of her neck and shuddered. Emmeline didn't need to turn to know the cause; the older lost boys leered at her at every chance. She'd yet to find someplace in camp to escape them, which was just peachy. Add to her list of worries a bunch of armed teenagers deprived of female company for centuries. Emmeline hated the chill that traipsed down her spine when she caught their stares.

Fear was a funny thing – it crawled quietly and settled deep before you knew it.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and Emmeline sprung to her feet.

"Spooked much?" Pan smirked.

She let out a breath as she tried to refrain from murdering him, heart galloping. Asshole. "Must be a side effect of captivity."

He pouted. "Come now, you sound a tad ungrateful, love." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gestured to the boys in the clearing. "I bet your new friends wouldn't appreciate being compared to captors."

"They're not," she said, shrugging him off. "You are."

Pan threw a hand over his heart. "Surely not. We are great friends, you and I. Aren't we?" His eyes gleamed with mischief and a challenge. "At least, that's what the boys think. And, you know, we wouldn't want for them to gain the wrong impression of you."

Emmeline felt like she was swallowing thorns. "No, we wouldn't."

His lips stretched into a smile that made her hands twitch with the desire to strangle him. "Lovely. We're on the same page."

Her stomach pounded with dread and fear, and all she wanted was to _not_ be near him. Not now that she was without hope and without a plan. Not now that the intoxicating scent of tropical flowers and the drumming sound of his magic was too much to fight off.

"Where do you think you're going?"

If she didn't know better, Emmeline would've sworn Pan sounded a little startled at her flippancy. "Wherever," she called over her shoulder. "I'm free after all." She'd hoped to put some distance between them to clear her head, but she should've known better than to think he'd let her off easy.

"In that case, let me accompany you." He fell into step beside her, ignoring the dirty look she gave him. "This is a rather large camp and I wouldn't want you to get lost. You haven't even told us a bedtime story yet."

She crossed her arms and kept her gaze fixed ahead. "Didn't know you were a fan. Have you been eavesdropping?"

"A guilty pleasure."

Emmeline rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm taking a night off."

Pan scoffed, "And here I was thinking motherhood was a full-time gig. Guess those bumbling heroes _have_ been lying about maternal instincts and crap."

Emmeline's heart rate picked up at the mention of the heroes – the crew. Were they alive? Were they well? Did they know she was alive? She remembered Pan teasing her about being his hostage; had he threatened them – her – already? But it wasn't like she could ask him. Well, technically she could, but she since couldn't _trust_ him anything he said would only fuel her overanalyzing and paranoid brain. And this was already too much. She had to get away, to think.

Emmeline all but jogged to the tree-line, thinking only of peace and quiet and being _goddamn_ alone when movement caught her peripheral attention and she saw one of her _stalkers_ ogling her and making way to the trail that led to her room.

 _Oh. Oh, no. Please don't be my guard for the night. Please._

Any and all color bleached from her face. There was no way she'd be getting any sleep now.

"Woah, you okay?" Pan chuckled. "Why the sudden stop?"

Emmeline wasn't sure if she was hyperventilating but she sure felt like she should be. "Nothing," she managed, eyes flitting from the lost boy to Pan. _He can't find out. Imagine the hell he'd put me through with this kind of ammo._ "I—I'm going to sleep" she muttered, head low.

He shifted on his feet. "What? So early? What's the rush?"

Emmeline pretended not to hear him as she walked away, pushing through the vegetation in hopes of finding a new path to her treehouse room. There was no way she'd take the other one. She heard Pan follow her and her hands twitched at her side. If she wasn't so rattled from nerves, she'd yell his ear off. Honestly. One break – she couldn't manage _one break_ without—

"Why the sudden change?" he pressed. "What's wrong? Emmeline?"

Emmeline threw her hands up in the air. "I'm tired and I want to go to bed, and don't you have better things to be doing than following me around? Haven't you won already? Shouldn't you be victory-dancing and—"

Pan took a step back, face etched with confusion. "Hey," he said, trying to calm her down. "Wait—just breathe."

"—Can't I have one moment of peace? One moment alone? I get that I'm your prisoner or your hostage or whatever, but one moment of privacy? Of safe? Is it too much to ask—"

"Emmeline." His face was a mask of composure, but there was a hint of apprehension in his tone. "Breathe."

"I can't—I can't," she choked.

He touched her arm with warm fingers. She opened her mouth to protest but, in the blink of an eye, they'd arrived at her room. She heaved in steadying breaths, greedily taking in the illusion of safety the door provided.

"Breathe," he murmured, eyes steady and fixed on hers. Emmeline swallowed. In the half-light, Pan's golden hair looked somewhat like a halo, and he somewhat like an angel. She jerked away like his touch burned. "We're here. You're okay."

She nodded, running a hand down her face. The room crackled with a different sort of tension now that she'd calmed down her panic and reality shoved itself back into her mind. She was in her room, alone, with Peter Pan. She was being comforted in her room, alone, by Peter Pan.

 _No. No, no, no. He's using you, this is just a game, a trick, something…_

"Tell me the truth, love," he said. "What's going on?"

"The truth?" she laughed, an edge to her voice. "You want the truth?" Something in her snapped, and against common sense, words poured out. "I'm tired of being a prisoner, tired of being a mother. I'm sick of being ogled by horny teenagers. And I'm sick of playing games with you."

He leaned on the wall and crossed his arms. "Well, you're the one who started the game."

"I—I don't care." She pressed her hands to her temples and lowered into a crouch. 'I can't take it. J-just let me have one night of peace and—"

"Wait," he said, holding up a hand as if he'd just caught onto something. "Ogled?"

She felt her face burning. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. How had she managed to hand her enemy such a trump? _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

He pushed off the wall but made no move toward her. "Ogled? The—The boys have been _ogling_ you?"

She couldn't take it back. Pan was both stubborn and clever and he would pester her until he had his answers. So she decided to talk because she was tired, and she just wanted this to be over already. "Yes," she sighed. "Are you going to pretend you don't know they've spent centuries on this blasted island alone?"

Pan took a step back, then another. He wasn't looking at her.

Emmeline managed a weak chuckle, "God, for a know-it-all, noisy fellow, you're not really that bright." She stood up and straightened her coat. Her hands were still jittery, and her stomach roiled anxiously, but she made eye-contact with him. "Can I go to sleep now?"

With a brief nod and a puff, Pan disappeared from her room.

Emmeline braced herself on the bedframe. The fight had left her lightheaded and empty and she climbed into bed feeling foolish and afraid. She stood no chance if she kept letting him into her head and handing him her weaknesses. God, she was supposed to be figuring _him_ out, learning _his_ weaknesses. Not the other way around.

Sleep, unfortunately, didn't offer the reprieve she'd hoped for. Instead, her nightmares were full of greedy, wicked boys hunting her. Hurting her.

When morning rose, she was exhausted. She blinked her eyes at the brightness, ready to turn over and bury herself in more blankets when she saw an intruder in her room. A lump clogged her throat, fear filled her veins, and she prepared to scream for help. Then her groggy mind caught up, and she recognized the wide-eyed boy in her room.

Emmeline sat up, covers falling along with her mouth. She blinked ten times, sure her mind was playing a trick on her, but then he spoke, and she knew it was real.

 _Shit_. Pan would not be happy with this.

…


	6. The Hostage

_**The Hostage**_

The bedtime stories became nightly routine for Melanie. As soon as the sun set one of her newly found friends would come to take over guard shift, and once the stars had settled in, her small group of lost boys would show up. They were entranced by her tales of heroes and bravery, of love and conquest, of magic. During the day she'd think up a new character, a new villain, a new scenery and during the evening she'd color them with her words. Little by little, more boys joined in their nightly activities, curious to meet the prisoner with the magical voice that could transport them to new lands.

Magical voice. Liam had come up with that description, it was how he introduced her to other boys, as the girl with magic on her tongue. It was especially ironic for her, considering her past and her _other_ abilities, though she'd mentioned none of that to him.

It had been going on for about four nights straight, and repercussions had yet to come. No lost boys had spoken a word of her outside their little meetings. Liam had made sure of it, he was the only one who could recruit new kids and he called only those he trusted. The ginger was dedicated to helping her win this game, she hoped she didn't disappoint him.

Melanie scanned the faces of all the children that visited her, searching for Benny, but had yet to find him. She was afraid of asking Liam for help in finding her brother, thinking that speaking his name out loud might endanger him. The last thing Benny needed was to be associated with a prisoner. Still, she longed to see him again. To beg his forgiveness for not rescuing him sooner, to hug him and never let him out of her sight again.

Contacting Emma and the others was also a problem frequently on her mind. There was no easy way to do it, she had no magical items, no way to write a letter or have it delivered. Plus, there was no cell reception on Neverland. She thought about recruiting a lost boy for the job but gave up on the idea immediately. When she'd arrived on the island she was ready to make any sacrifice for her mission. But seeing those boys, so lost and lonely, light up every night around her, seeing them trust and love her, it changed things. She wouldn't sacrifice them. She just had to figure out something else.

* * *

A good crowd had turned up tonight, eager to hear her again. The kids sat closer to the cage now, no longer scared of the girl inside it. Some even held her hand, during her description of battles, where the hero seemed doomed, or when something devastatingly sad was happening to him. A young one, named Lucas, had smuggled her an animal skin sweater on the second night, when he saw her trembling through the ending of the tale. They sought her out for comfort, they trusted her with their secrets.

A seven year-old boy, Daniel, had come in early to talk to her about his parents, tonight. She could see how hard it was for him, the tears pooling in his eyes when he spoke of their constant fighting, the verbal and physical violence they inflicted on each other. He spoke of running away to live on the streets by himself. He never had a real home or a family before. This child had never been loved by anyone in his life. When the shadow came for him he was glad, he had food and company here. Her heart was screaming, banging unpleasantly in her chest, as she watched his eyes dry and sparkle, a vulnerable smile creeping into his face. He said he knew now that this wasn't his home, that her stories had helped him see that. He wanted to be wanted, to know true affection, like her characters did. Daniel had caressed her face, and told her he wanted a mom just like her, kind and affectionate, who could tell good stories.

How could she leave him behind? How could she leave any of them with Pan? Melanie had been in a bad place for some time too, she knew what it was like, and she knew how they felt. But it wasn't the same for her, because she'd had Benny and they never had anyone. How cruel would it be of her, to gain their love and trust only to part with her brother and Henry, and to leave them to deal with Pan's rage afterwards?

Mel watched the last lost boy disappear through the trees for the night. She touched her forehead to the cold bamboo bars, struggling with her old and new problems. The brunette barely noticed a weird vibration in the air, or the fact that her guard for the night had gone with the others, leaving her alone in the jungle. The sound of clapping nearly gave her a heart attack, she jumped in her cage and hit her head painfully on the ceiling. Turning her whole body around, she saw him approaching her. Pan.

"That was a lovely tale, lass." He purred delightedly at her. She had, to her dismay, to move closer to other side of the cage to see him properly. His green eyes were magnetic, once she'd looked into them she couldn't tear her gaze away. "It really warmed my soul."

"I don't think you have one," she said, trying to pour all her disgust and anger into it.

"Feisty," he laughed, "I like that."

She rolled her eyes, and fought to hold herself together. He had this energy about him that lit the whole place on fire, making her hot in her new clothing. Abruptly, Pan dropped to one knee and leaned forward, his face very close to hers. Heat rushed up her face involuntarily. Melanie tried to mask her fear, rolling back her shoulders and facing him head on, but he disarmed her by lifting his eyebrows in question. He was powerful, and incredibly attractive. No one as evil and monstrous as he should be allowed to be so handsome. The worst of demons disguised themselves as angels as it would appear.

"Tell me love," he whispered, "did you really think you could take a few of my lost boys and I wouldn't notice?"

"Of course not," Melanie replied, regaining her composure. This was the boy that had taken Benny from her, who had ruined countless other families. Finding her head wasn't hard. She had to stick to the plan.

He smirked at the confidence with which she gave her response, and looked away for a moment before turning back to her. "Then what was the point of this whole charade?"

"I think you know."

"The game?" He answered, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "I was wondering what you were planning to take that little fib."

"I wasn't fibbing," she said coolly, "we are playing a game, one you're not aware of yet."

Pan studied her curiously, like he couldn't believe her boldness. She was after all in a cage, under his orders. She was his prisoner. She didn't act it though.

"I do love games," he admitted, pacing in front of her.

"You're gonna adore this one," Mel stated, grabbing the bars in front of her. "You're letting me out of this cage."

"Why would I do that?" he inquired, amused.

"Because I won the first part of our game," she confessed, confidence growing. "I've made a few friends, as you've seen. They're very fond of my opinion, I would hate to have them acquire a wrong impression of you."

"A few lost boys is nothing, lass."

"Under normal circumstances, maybe not. But you've got your hands full, running a big playing board, lots of players to keep track of, lots of evil scheming to do." He laughed at that. "You don't have the luxury of worrying to contain a few rebelling boys, who could do a lot of damage from the inside."

The blond pondered this, and Melanie was almost sure she had him pinned now. _Please work, please, please._

"I could just kill them," he said in a nonchalant tone, "it would save me the trouble of keeping an eye on you, out and about my camp."

"I don't have to stay in your camp," she replied quickly, fearful for the kids.

"You leaving my sight? Not bloody likely."

"Careful, you could make a girl swoon talking like that," Mel teased, praying dearly that he'd do as she'd asked.

"I could kill you," he added as an afterthought, meaning to scare her.

"If the idea was so appealing to you, you would've done it before. The fact that you haven't means you're either incapable or unwilling to do it."

Pan stopped pacing and tilted his head down to look at her, really look at her. He seemed surprised, perhaps at the way she spoke to him, as if he inspired no fear in her, or at the cold hard facts she delivered. This girl, who was terribly clever, was the first real adversary he'd had in a long time. He had everyone else exactly where he wanted them, and yet, she had him where she wanted. He had the ability kill her, that wasn't the issue. He didn't want to kill her, not when the fun was about to begin. Her magic was still a mystery to him, as were her intentions on Neverland. The others were here for Henry, but she had no ties to the boy whatsoever. He couldn't let her go back to them, she could tilt the balance of power, but while she remained in this cage she was his prisoner, and that was already tilting the scale of power here. She was right, he couldn't afford to lose any loyalties now.

"Maybe I'm waiting for the right moment to do it," he lied with ease, moving to the border of the jungle.

"Why wait?" Melanie questioned. She angled her body so her back was turned to him, and looked at ceiling of her prison. His gaze was too intense to hold. He demanded her full attention, any slip would mean terminal failure, and though she had cornered him now, it was temporary. Keeping herself one step ahead him was her next challenge.

"Ever heard of hostages, love?"

"I'm no good as a hostage, there's no one on this island who'd gamble for me."

"You underestimate the Charming's hero-like impulses," he chuckled, "I think you'll make an excellent gambling tool."

* * *

 _ **A.N: There you go! Hope I didn't disappoint, this was the hardest chapter I've written so far, but I'm pleased with it, although there was a lot of dialogue. If you don't enjoy that, let me know and I might tone down the dialogue in the next one. Thanks for all the reviews and support, you guys are awesome!**_


	7. The Mother

_**The Mother**_

Her dreams were plagued by his intense green eyes and the slight raising of his eyebrows that provoked, intrigued, and challenged her. She couldn't escape Pan, even in her dreams. She heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother's, it warned her over and over: _this boy is a demon, you're doomed_.

She awoke abruptly, due to the shaking of her cage. Four teenagers, older lost boys she supposed, had picked her up and were carrying her somewhere. Melanie had butterflies in her stomach. She had a feeling whatever this was, it had to do with last night's discussion. Perhaps he'd pondered her demands and decided she wasn't worth the trouble of keeping alive. She could be headed to her own demise.

The lost boys looked serious, disciplined. Their faces were decorated by scars, thin and thick, and the girl wondered if they'd got them before or after arriving at Neverland. They had an intimidating feel about them, like they were fed bitterness for breakfast. One of them wouldn't take his eyes off her, running his gaze up and down her figure. She felt bare even though she was wearing two layers of clothing. How long had it been since they'd been in the presence of a girl?

The vegetation was growing less dense, rays of sunshine fell through gaps in the leaves, illuminating her surroundings like spotlights. Melanie had to hold on to the bamboo bars to prevent herself from flying around the cage, these boys weren't gentle. The sound of kids laughing and arguing hit her like a train. They were taking her to the center of Pan's camp, where all the boys lived. She imagined Benny among them, seeing her like a prisoner, maybe even seeing her execution. Mel prayed with all her faith that he didn't recognize her, she didn't want his last memory of her to be of weakness. She wanted to be strong and brave for him, but who was she kidding? Her magic wasn't made for fighting or defending, it wasn't good enough to save him. All she could do was heal. How was that any helpful?

She was carried into a clearing ringed by thick tree trunks. Lost boys were scattered everywhere, tending to food on fires, stocking weapons. The younger ones she recognized, they were her little friends, the ones who'd believed she could win. Liam was playing tag with a few others, he stopped abruptly when he saw her come in, a smile brightening his face. She wanted to apologize for disappointing him.

Melanie realized, while she and her cage were set down on the floor that she'd been through this whole routine before. Her entire life she'd thought she was worthless, her magic had never been much help and she disappointed everyone over and over again. She'd always convinced herself it wasn't true, that she was more than magic, that she could do well by herself and that she could win by being smarter than those around her. It never worked. The brunette had assumed she had two paths to choose from, two versions of herself she could be, one who used magic and one who used wits. But the problem was she wasn't one or the other. She was both. She was magic and cleverness, and they didn't cancel each other out. She'd spent her life being half of herself instead of being whole.

A loud whistle broke the curious chatter of those in the clearing, who had formed a group around her. Melanie didn't need to turn around to know who was approaching. If she were to die today, by his hands, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing her fear. She willed her expression to be blank and unyielding.

"Do any of you know this girl?" Pan asked, in cheery tone that scared Melanie more than if he'd been menacing. This boy was crazy intelligent and manipulative, she couldn't hope to imagine where he was taking this, only that it wouldn't be good for her.

The kids and teenagers that had formed a circle around her looked at their shoes, nervous to give the wrong answer suffer the consequences. They knew his wrath firsthand, and yet some still served and obeyed him out of loyalty. She would never understand that.

"I do, sir." Liam answered bravely, pushing his way to the front. Melanie saw his ginger head parting from the crowd and nearly choked on her heart. "That's the storyteller, the prisoner."

Peter Pan came partially into her view. He walked elegantly to stand beside the cage where he rested his hand. Mel was terrified for Liam, sweet Liam, who had been her first real friend in a lifetime, who had trusted and believed in her. She wanted to do something, to say something, but feared it would only worsen his situation.

"You're quite right," Pan acknowledged, moving to stand directly next to the boy. He kneeled beside him, placing a hand on the ginger's back, and staring directly at her, a challenging glint in his eyes as he produced his next question, "What do you think of her?"

"She's- I mean," he stuttered, he glanced at her quickly and Melanie let her expression soften for him. "She is a very good at telling stories, sir. She is very nice."

Melanie sighed inwardly in regret, she shouldn't have put any of them in danger. How could she have been foolish enough to believe she could outsmart Pan?

"She is nice, isn't she?" Pan purred, he stood and addressed the whole crowd, "What do you think?"

All the young kids nodded slowly, the older ones remained indifferent, waiting for the catch that was sure to come. Melanie's brain was working at full speed, imagining how she could make Pan spare them. She wouldn't let them pay the price for her poor judgement.

"I think it's only fair I be honest with you," the blond explained, "I made a mistake when I ordered her to be imprisoned."

Melanie's was as taken back as the rest of them, her eyes wide in shock. Peter Pan admitting to have been mistaken? Some of the teenagers present, especially those who had carried her in, were whispering to each other in confusion. This type of behavior was uncommon for their leader.

"I thought she was working with the terrible adults." He spit out the last word, as if it disgusted him, and Melanie saw that it was in benefit of the children, who hated grown-ups due to their past experiences, and who he was now winning over. "The ones who have come to take away the only boy who can save magic on Neverland, Henry. But it appears I was wrong."

Mel saw the little one's faces, awed at this speech, they were buying every word he said. All the hard work she'd done to get them to trust her was useless if they were also on Pan's side. Any hope she might've had that they'd support her in a rebellion vanished.

The infuriating blond boy waved his hand and the front of her cage disappeared. He was setting her free. _Letting you out of my sight? Not bloody likely._ No, he wasn't, she was still a prisoner, stuck in this camp. Except now with none of the benefits. Pan offered her his hand, and she froze for a moment. Refusing it would be a sign of ungratefulness, it would make it clear for the lost boys that they were still be enemies. His smirk taunted her. He had offered her the next move. _Choose wisely_ , his eyes seemed to say. If she took his hand it would show peace, in the eyes of the boys they'd be allies, which would make her plan that much harder to execute. But at least she wouldn't lose their allegiance.

She placed her dirt stained hand tentatively on his, he closed his hand and pulled her up in one graceful movement. Her back protested from spending some much time hunched over, but she did her best to stand tall. He let go of her hand and snaked his arm around her, pressing her against his side.

"She is a welcome guest in our camp, and I trust you'll treat her accordingly." he announced, smiling widely, "She will be the mother you all wanted so badly."

Cheers erupted from the lost boys and they rushed forward to hug her. She was enveloped in a sea of small faces in no time, all calling for her attention. Melanie was getting dizzy, this was all too much, too soon. She needed to breathe, to think. Pan kissed her forehead lightly, and with that sealed her fate. This mission was going to cost her everything. She was never leaving Neverland.

* * *

 _ **A.N: I'm sorry this was so short, but I've been really busy and I wanted to post something for you guys this week still. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to all who followed, favorited and/or reviewed, this story wouldn't have been possible without your support and encouragement. Leave chapter name suggestions in the reviews, I'm curious to see what you expect for the next one, and I might use them. Until next time!**_


	8. The Illness

**The Illness**

 _Her mother was sick._

 _The village physician had come to see her, out of kindness since they had no money to pay him, and that had been his verdict. Her mother was sick. He didn't say what kind of illness had taken her, he didn't know, which also meant he couldn't cure her._

 _Benny sat beside her on the bed, pressing a wet cloth to her forehead. Despite her demands that he stay away because she didn't want to infect him, he stood stubbornly by her side. Sometimes he told her stories, the ones Melanie would tell him at night to get him to fall asleep, and sometimes he would just sit there and stroke her hand, comforting with his presence. Melanie didn't have the heart to tell him to stand back, even though she was deathly afraid he would contract whatever evil had taken her mom. They had lost their father just weeks before in the ogre's war, and they hadn't had the chance to say goodbye, to tell him was loved, to tell him he would be missed. She wouldn't deprive Benny of that chance now, not when she wasn't sure if her mother would make it._

 _The old physician pulled her aside after examining her mother, and asked her if she had no other family she would like to contact, anyone who could take care of her and Benny when her mother was gone. The words had stung her heart and eyes. When her mother was gone. He spoke like she was about to die any minute. While Melanie knew that it was possible she hated having to admit it, to consider the possibility that she would become an orphan. That Benny would become an orphan._

" _We have an uncle," she whispered, careful not to let her words be overheard. Benny was in the next room with her mother and the walls in the house were too thin for her taste. "He lives a few villages over. I've never met him. He was my father's brother and they didn't have a good relationship."_

" _Then you better start making amends," the physician advised her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Take care child."_

 _He left. Melanie stood in the empty kitchen looking out the open door at his retreating back. Her heart clenched, her hands trembled. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Tears were pooling in her eyes and she could barely fight them back._

 _This is it._

 _They were done for._

 _Her brain launched into a frenzy of questions. How would she feed Benny? She was sure she could sell the house. That ought to sustain them for a few months. But then where would they live? Not with their uncle, for sure. Her father loathed him, and he wasn't the loathing type. Her uncle must have done something terrible to earn her father's wrath. But where else could she take them? A young girl and a child weren't exactly welcome at inns since it was obvious they couldn't afford to pay for their expenses. No other family would shelter them, the war had wrecked everyone. Two extra mouths to feed was a lot, especially when everyone was going hungry. Her only solution was to procure employment, to make money of her own to spend so she could provide for her brother. But how would she get a job if even the more experienced workers were unemployed due to the bankruptcy of the kingdom?_

 _Everything was falling apart and she felt helpless and impotent. She was only a child. How could the fates be so cruel to her? She'd done nothing wrong._

 _It's your hair, her mind hissed. All magic comes with a price, even she knew that. But she hadn't asked for her magic, she didn't want it. All it did was bring her trouble._

" _Mel?" a quiet, hesitant whisper._

 _She wiped at her cheeks before turning around and plastering a fake smile to her lips. "Yes, Benny."_

 _He seemed relieved to see her smiling expression, he was too naïve to see through it. "Do you know how to make tea?" he inquired pensively. His serious face, complete with a furrowing brow, was nearly enough to make her laugh. His expression was of a small adult who was pondering a much more important matter than tea._

" _Yes, I think. I've seen mom do it a couple of times." She answered, kneeling in front of him and pushing back his hair affectionately. "Why? Do you want some?"_

" _I think mom might like some tea," he admitted, staring into her eyes with a startling light. "It might make her throat feel better."_

 _Melanie breathed in a calmer breath, then another, then another. She had to keep it together for Benny. She was the eldest, she was in charge and she would not give up on them._

" _That's a great idea," she whispered. "Go outside and grab me some leaves from the bush, you know the one?" he nodded enthusiastically. "Good. I'll boil the water."_

 _She watched him dash outside, and her heart beat a little lighter. She wasn't alone, she had him. And he had her. It was enough to fight off the claws of despair that threatened to tear her apart._

* * *

Her plan had failed. Miserably. She needed a new one.

The lost boys ran around camp, bringing in wood for a fire as night drew closer and preparing the food for supper. Melanie was sitting on a tree stump, head in her hands, watching them go about their business and thinking. She was thinking really hard.

Pan was clever, too clever. He hadn't played into her game, she'd played into his and now she was stuck in the middle of the playing board. Sure, she'd bended him a little bit but that wasn't anything. He'd had the upper hand the entire time. Now she a prisoner without a cage, waltzing around camp but unable to leave. She hadn't contacted Emma, she hadn't figured out a way to do so. She hadn't found Benny or Henry. Basically, not one part of her brilliant escape plan had worked.

"Hey, mom," one of the little kids yelled from across the camp. "Can you tell us a bedtime story?"

His request was followed by similar pleas from the other children until she was nearly drowning in their voices. She smiled kindly and nodded, "After supper."

Cheers and hugs followed her promise, and she was engulfed in a sea of tiny arms. She couldn't help smiling at them, at her boys. They went back to their activities and she was left alone on her stump, back to thinking. This was exactly what Pan wanted, for her to love the boys. He knew that love would weaken her, it already had. She couldn't save everyone. She had to make a sacrifice, the lost boys or her brother and Henry. But which would she choose? It had been so simple back when she'd arrived, she would have picked her brother without a second thought and though she still loved him as deeply as ever she'd also come to love the boys.

 _I can't leave them to deal with Pan's wrath, I can't,_ her brain protested. It wasn't fair to them. She couldn't betray their trust. But she would have to, eventually, if she ever planned to leave the island.

With each passing day she got the distinct impression she wasn't ever going to leave Neverland. It helped only to make her more nervous. She was in desperate need of an idea. A brilliant idea.

A burning in the back of her neck snapped her from her reverie. She didn't bother turning around, she could feel a pair of eyes locked on her and she knew it was probably one of the lost boys. One of the older ones. Add to her list of problems a bunch of teenagers who had been deprived of female interaction for centuries.

She hated the chill that traipsed down her spine every time she caught them staring. She hated that they plagued her nightmares, that she couldn't close her eyes without seeing their hungry faces. It had been a long time since she'd felt this kind of fear, but it was familiar and crawled back into her with ease.

So basically she could divide the lost boys into three groups: the little ones, which she loved; the ones loyal to Pan, whom she'd never understand; and the ones whose eyes feasted on her, the ones she feared.

She shivered, rubbing her arms to maintain body heat. Liam was tending to the fire, his red hair camouflaged in the baby flames. She stood, hugging her animal-skin coat, and walked over to him.

"Good evening." His cheerfulness seemed unshakeable ever since she'd become his 'mother'. Melanie felt a special love for this boy, he was almost a brother to her. He was the only person in the entire camp that she trusted fully.

"I'm not feeling well," she told him in a hushed whisper. "I think I'll retire early tonight. Can you apologize to the boys, please? Tell them I'll make it up tomorrow."

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

Her stomach grumbled in protest. She was hungry, and the food here was delightful after the empty bellied nights she'd spent with Emma and crew. "No, I'm not," she lied.

"Should I call Yuri to come and check you?"

Yuri was one of the older boys who was loyal to Pan. He knew fairly more than the others about bandaging and making poultices. He could even make some herbal teas to cure poisoning and headaches. Illness wasn't common in the island, not for the children anyway, so there were little demands for medicine or physicians. Yuri was nicknamed 'the doctor' by the kids because he was the one usually patching up the wounded.

"No," she blurted quickly. He eyed her with confusion and she did her best to cover up with a smile. "I'm sure it's nothing serious, I just need some rest. I'll be better by morning."

Liam was wary of letting her go back to her small tree-house room alone but in the end he gave in. As she was walking away he wished her good dreams.

 _I wish..._

The vegetation engulfed her, the darkness making it difficult to see very far ahead. Melanie pushed past the low foliage, ignoring the uncomfortable scraping on her arms and legs. The night's chill haunted her. She shouldn't be feeling the cold, no one in Pan's camp did since the temperature was controlled by magic. Plus she was wearing a fur coat. Maybe she _was_ sick. She shuddered.

"Too cold out for your taste?"

The voice set off her frazzled nerves and she jumped, turning to face Pan's smirking face. He looked satisfied with the reaction he'd evoked from her. It made her hate him just that bit more. She wanted to wipe that smug grin off his pretty face so badly.

 _You will_ , her brain promised. _You just need to outsmart him._

 _Because that worked out so well last time,_ part of her scoffed.

 _This time it will be different._

 _Why?_

 _I've got a feeling._

"No, I happen to enjoy colder weather," she said, raising an eyebrow at his chuckle.

"You don't," he retorted, pacing around her in circles. His aura of power was as strong as ever, magic emanating from his skin and beating loud in her ears. She wished there was a way to drown it out. "I thought you would've used your magic by now to fight it off, but you seem… unwilling."

She shrugged with forced nonchalance. He still had no clue how her magic worked, and that was the only thing she had over him at the moment. Melanie realized the whole weather issue was his doing. He was testing her for a reaction, he wanted a glimpse of her power. She barely held back a smile. If only he knew how useless her magic really was…

"You'd rather endure the cold than protect yourself from it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. He stopped in front of her and leaned forward, knowing how uncomfortable it made her. She didn't back away though, she wouldn't show him weakness. "Why lie to me?" he breathed by her ear. "I thought you'd know better than that."

"Better than to lie?" she asked.

"Better than to lie to me," he pulled back and dashed her a wicked grin.

She couldn't avoid his brilliantly green eyes, which constantly sought her out, looking into them was torture. They plagued her nightmares, ever so taunting, ever so evil.

"Tell me lass, how are you liking the hospitality of my camp? Much better than the bamboo cage I hope."

"I do miss being behind bars." She muttered, giving him a bitter smile.

He laughed. "Have my boys not been friendly?"

"Too friendly for my taste." Melanie regretted the words as soon as they'd left her mouth. She was never going to succeed if she gave him all the tools to breaking her. And that's what she'd been doing. The more she talked to him, the more he learned of her weaknesses. The glint in his eyes was unreadable, his expression perfectly guarded.

 _No more talking to Pan until you can control your mouth_ , she scolded herself.

She bit her lower lip and fell into a mocking curtesy. "With your pardon," she said, turning away from him and resuming her path to her tree-house. He magically appeared, blocking her way. Mel held in a groan of frustration. She hated it when he did that.

"I'm not done with you, lass."

"Well too bad. I'm done with you." She knew her words were foolish and that she should be more careful when addressing the person who held all her loved ones lives in his hands. But she was tired and grumpy and cold. And hungry too. She was not in the mood for entertaining Pan's games or trying to get anything out of him.

Mel pushed past him, her arm brushing his on the way. She rubbed it self-consciously, trying to get rid of the memory of his touch. Pan didn't pop in her way again and she took it as a sign that she'd been dismissed.

She gingerly climbed into the bed that she'd been given, cocooning herself in the thin blanket. She shivered all night long, tossing and turning. Her nightmares didn't give her a reprieve. Finally, when morning rose, she opened one exhausted eye. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized she wasn't alone in the room, and was about to scream for help, though she wasn't sure what good it would do her. Then she recognized the intruder and her throat clogged up, her eyes widened and she prayed her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

* * *

 _ **A.N: Sorry that took so long, but I've been plenty occupied since I last posted. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter, even though it was fairly uneventful, and another one will be coming soon. Please review if you can!**_


	9. The Truest Believer

**The Truest Believer**

"We can't just do nothing!"

"Yes, we very well can. In fact, that's all we've been doing since getting on this blasted island." Regina muttered, rubbing her temples. "That and getting ambushed by toddlers."

Snow shook her head forcefully, grasping for the right words to convince the others. "We can't abandon her, she's our responsibility. We brought her here."

"She came of her own accord," Regina batted away her argument. "She knew what she was getting into."

"We're heroes," Charming said, "and we don't abandon the people that need our help. Melanie needs us, as much as Henry does. I don't see why we can't save them both."

Snow beamed, relieved someone had taken her side. She had been having this discussion with Regina for the past few days but none of the others had spoken up yet. She wasn't sure if it was because they were afraid of crossing Regina or her.

"If the opportunity to save the girl shows up we will," the former Evil Queen promised. "But I will not risk Henry's safety for hers."

"It won't come down to that," Snow said. "Pan told us-"

"There's the flaw in your plan, love," Hook cut her off. "Your only information source is Pan, and we all know the little devil can't be trusted."

"Hook is right," Emma added. She looked apologetic but determined. "I want to save Melanie and her brother, but they're not a priority. We came here for Henry."

Frustration welled up inside her and threatened to blow. She could feel her cheeks reddening from it. "We need to help her," Snow pleaded, her eyes darting from one person to the other. None of them would meet her eyes. "She has magic that could come in handy to us." She hated resorting to this sort of plead, implying that a person's value was in their usefulness to them. But she had to get the crew moving. They had to do something.

Snow remembered the young girl's broken yet hopeful eyes. She remembered talking to her on the ship about her little brother, Benny. Melanie was strong, she'd endured so much on her own. Snow didn't know the half of her story, but the ghosts of the girl's past swam to her eyes when she was unguarded. It was painful to witness. The irony of her situation was mocking. The girl with the power to heal was broken.

"We have plenty of magic here," Regina answered. "We have savior magic. That's enough to get the job done."

"But-"

"Mary Margaret." This time it was Emma who interrupted her. "I don't like the idea of her suffering at Pan's hand, I really don't. But we can't throw everything away to rescue her. Pan is playing with us all the time, he wants us to get sidetracked. We can't trust him."

Snow sighed, exasperated, and pushed her hair off her forehead. It was terribly hot on Neverland. "This is the best lead to Henry we have! Pan told me how to retrieve Melanie, and he said she's at his camp. Henry is at his camp too, Hook said so."

"I did, didn't I?" the pirate mused, rubbing his chin.

"It's a trap," Regina snapped. "How many times do I have to say it? He wouldn't make this easy for us, the girl is a trap. We are not wasting efforts on a suicide mission."

Snow's heart deflated. She opened her mouth to protest, to say anything, but closed it as soon as she saw the determination in Emma's eyes. She loved her daughter, more than anything in the world. But she was afraid of what this rescue mission would cost Emma. She was afraid of the sacrifices to her integrity and selflessness.

The others turned away, moving to check on their supplies and pretending to be busy. Only she and Charming stood at the center of their camp, watching the embers of last night's fire go out. She had lost the argument. Charming put his arm around her in attempt of being comforting. She let herself be engulfed by him, hiding her face in his shirt. She breathed in his familiar scent.

 _It will be fine_ , she promised herself. _We'll find her and Henry. We'll save everyone._ _We're heroes._

 _Are we?_ Part of her asked skeptically.

Neverland was pushing them over the line. Snow hated the thought of Emma going dark, of her letting go of all reservations and crossing every boundary. Snow knew what that was like, she'd done it back in Storybrooke. She'd killed Cora.

 _Murdered_ , her brain corrected her.

All she'd been trying to do then was ensure the safety of her family. Look at what it had cost her. Look at her heart. But she also knew that she would do it again, if it was the only means to save her loved ones. That's what Emma was doing, for Henry. Snow just wished it hadn't come down to this.

* * *

"Shhhh" the boy said, pressing a finger to his lips.

Melanie was frozen on the bed, still gripping the covers tight in her fists. She didn't plan on screaming. Her heart was beating loud in her chest in a mixture of fright and surprise and hope. She thought she'd never find her hope again, but it seemed the feeling was hard to let go.

"I'm Henry," the boy introduced himself, trying for a calming smile. "I heard you came with my family."

* * *

Pan was pacing.

He was at the far side of his camp, near the south border, running his hand nervously through his hair. There were no guards here, he had asked them to leave. He needed the privacy. He needed to sort out his ideas.

There were so many players in his game, so much to keep track of and so little time. He hadn't been counting with her. Melanie. She was messing up his board. He still had no clue as to how her magic worked or why it felt different. It pulsed with a unique rhythm, different from Rumple's or Emma's or his own. She could shut hers off.

Sometimes her magic felt like a soft hum. When she was with the boys for an example, it was soothing and sweet and gentle. Her magic caressed them.

Sometimes, like last night, her magic burned.

He was being constantly surprised by her words and her cleverness. It seemed like she didn't care about upsetting him, like she wasn't afraid of the consequences.

 _She must be confident in her power_ , he thought.

She was a risk. Now he had to control her, which would be difficult. Everyone had a motive to be on Neverland, a good one. He didn't know hers. Without that knowledge she couldn't be bought or blackmailed.

"Sir."

He turned around slowly to face one of the border patrols. The kid had a composed expression but his posture gave him away, he was too tense.

"Yes," Pan said.

"We had an issue in the north side this morning," the boy reported robotically. "The boy slipped his guards this morning."

"What?" He could barely control the anger in his voice. The guard's knees trembled. "Henry didn't even know he had a guard following him. How could he possibly lose them?"

"We're not sure. But he hasn't left camp, he was spotted near the east side only a few minutes ago," the kid added quickly. "We weren't sure what action to take. Felix told us to ask you."

Pan's pulse was raising. He knew his cheeks were staining red from anger. East side was where Melanie was being kept. He was keeping them apart for a reason, and it was crucial that they did not make contact. He couldn't lose the heart of the truest believer. He remembered Melanie's soft magic, the one that had enchanted the lost boys. She could set Henry against him, it wouldn't take much. This girl was going to ruin his plan.

"Have some boys escort Melanie here, quietly and without force," he answered, masking his features. "I'll deal with Henry later."

* * *

 _ **A.N: There you go! Another quick update. Please review if you enjoyed it and thank you all for your support and encouragements.**_


	10. The Brave One

**The Brave One**

" _Let me at least try," the girl exclaimed, wincing at the sharpness in her voice._

" _No, Melanie."_

" _But mom-"_

" _My decision is final."_

" _I'm sorry," the girl sobbed, falling to her knees beside the bed. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."_

" _No it isn't," her mother hushed, "none of this is your fault."_

" _But if I hadn't called the physician-"_

" _Drop the subject Melanie," the older woman cut her off. "There's no use crying over spilt milk."_

 _The brunette lowered her face onto the mattress and hid it behind her crossed arms. She let the tears fall freely, she wouldn't have been able to hold them back if she wanted to anyway. Her shoulders shook sporadically. Her hair was tangled, woven through her arms, wet with her tears._

" _We could run away," she whispered, lifting her head. "I could heal you and we could run away. To another village, another kingdom. Somewhere no one knows us and where no one would suspect my magic."_

" _We can't, you know that."_

Why not? _Her mind screamed._ Why couldn't they be together? Why was her mother adamant on pushing away her only chance at survival? Did she want Benny and Mel to be orphans?

" _Mel," her mother called. The girl met her eyes. "I love you. I love Benny." The words were a painful pang in her gut. "I'm doing this for your safety. You have to promise me you'll be brave. Promise me you'll look out for Benny."_

" _I can't," Melanie sniveled. "I can't promise something like that."_

" _You have to," her mother smiled sadly. "You have to promise me, and yourself. Most importantly yourself."_

" _I'm not brave, I'm afraid," she breathed, her voice hitching in her throat. "I don't know that I can take care of Benny. I don't want him to get hurt but I don't know that I'm capable of- I'm not good at-"_

" _Shhhh," her mother said, running her hands through Melanie's hair. "You are brave. You are smart. You are loving. That's all Benny needs. He needs a family." She wiped a tear off of Mel's cheek with her thumb. "Can you be his family?"_

 _Melanie nodded with fervor._

" _Good."_

* * *

Three sharp raps at the door made her jump. Melanie cast a quick glance at Henry and saw that he too looked surprised. And scared.

The girl threw off the covers and hopped to her feet, eyes roaming the small room desperately. She need somewhere to hide the kid. _Think Melanie, think._ More knocking. Her heart nearly raced out of her chest.

 _That's it!_ Her brain cried in relief. The chest.

She signaled Henry with her eyes and, thank all deities, he understood what she meant. There was a fairly large wooden chest by her bed, it held some clothes that had been given to her along with the room. She wasn't sure where Pan had found women's clothing on the island. She guessed that if the shadow could take people it could very well take clothes too. The boy opened the latch carefully and climbed inside, curling into a ball. Melanie could see it wasn't very comfortable but at least he fit.

"Open up." A demanding voice, probably one of the boys on guard duty. "We have orders from Pan."

Melanie blew out a nervous breath and opened the thin door, putting on the most nonchalant smile she could muster. She even batted her eyelashes a little bit, even though her stomach twisted in disgust at it.

"Yes, how can I be of service?"

The boy poked his head inside her room and she took an instinctive step back. He stared at her then at the seemingly empty room. He scanned it carefully. He was looking for something.

"Excuse me," Mel said, snapping his attention back to her. "I believe you came with a message from Pan."

The boy straightened his back and stood in soldier-position. "Pan has requested your presence." He announced. "I am here to escort you to him."

Her stomach felt like it had been fed acid. Her heart was burning adrenaline.

"Of course," she smiled sweetly. "I just need to change. You woke me up."

The boy nodded but didn't back away from the threshold. His eyes were starting to freak her out. Melanie smoothed out her shirt with her sweaty palms. He kept glancing around her room. She released a shaky breath and grabbed the door handle slowly closing it. The guard took a hint and stepped back. She shut the door.

She counted five seconds before she heard shuffling on the other side, meaning the guard had descended the rope-ladder. The lid on the chest started lifting, tentatively. Melanie rushed to it, dropping to her knees and shielding it with her body.

"You need to wait here a little longer," she whispered to Henry. His brown eyes were wide. "There are guards waiting down there, lost boys. They came looking for you."

He nodded. "I thought I'd lost them this morning."

"That's okay," she said, trying her best to reassure him. "When I leave the room you need to stay in the chest. Count to one hundred in your head, then leave. Quickly and quietly. It's probably best if you return to where you came from. Have a good excuse in mind."

"Wait," he blurted, alarmed. "You want me to go back? What about saving me? I thought you came with my family to save me."

"I did come with them, to save you and my brother." Seeing his confused look she added, "He was taken by the shadow."

"Then why aren't we leaving? Don't you have a plan?"

 _I wish I did kid._

"Of course," she lied. "But we need to wait for Emma to come get us. She has to find a way off the island before we attempt to escape." The last part was true. Melanie hoped she'd find one soon. "For now I've got to go. Pan needs to believe he's winning. You have to play along, okay?"

"Okay," he answered.

"Be brave."

She was about to close the lid when Henry stopped her, "Wait. You told him you were changing." He threw her a clean white shirt and she caught it, smiling.

* * *

The guard seemed very displeased with her taking so long to change. He led her through the vegetation back to the center of camp, to the place where the lost boys kept their food. The smell of it made her stomach grumble, reminding her that she had gone to sleep without feeding it. But the guard hadn't brought her here to eat, he kept walking purposefully and she followed.

He took her on a new path, one she hadn't had the chance to explore yet. The sun was shining overhead, but thankfully the heat wasn't bothering her. Pan must have given up on playing with the thermostat. She wondered what he wanted with her now.

 _It must have something to do with Henry_ , her mind reasoned. The guard had been suspiciously interested in analyzing her room. _That might have been something else though. No,_ her mind argued, _he was definitely looking for the kid._ Pan had learned that Henry had slipped his guards this morning, which wasn't that impressive seeing as how he had magic and spies everywhere. But somehow he guessed Henry would come to her. _Maybe he wants to interrogate me. Maybe he wants to kill me._

 _Enough,_ she told herself. He wouldn't kill her, not yet. That was his flaw, she'd realized. His curiosity, his wonder. The lost boys had it, and so did he. It was part of being a child, Neverland brought it out in everyone. And Pan was deadly curious about her magic and her purpose. She knew the lack of knowledge was killing him inside.

Her understanding of his inner workings astounded her, even scared her a bit. She realized that maybe he wasn't that hard for her to read after all. Maybe she just needed to pay more attention.

"Is he very far still?" she asked the guard.

He turned around with a bored look on his face, "Yes."

"I didn't know the camp was so big," Mel said, mostly to herself. She ran her left hand along the side of a huge tree trunk and her eyes roamed her surroundings.

They went on walking for a few more minutes and Melanie thought about asking the boy for a break. She really was tired from trekking through the dense vegetation. Then she felt something wash over her with the distinct touch of magic. It was like walking through a waterfall. As soon as the feeling passed she saw the guard's shoulders tense. He put his hand on the hilt of his weapon. Melanie drew a sharp breath and backed away but he wasn't paying her attention. She looked around and noticed this part of the island felt different, it hummed with a different magic. It was hot. Too hot, she realized, for Pan's compound.

The guard was out before he could draw his club. Melanie turned around searching for someone or something. She felt defenseless and vulnerable. There was a twitch in the magic around her, and she swiveled just in time to witness the pooling of a smoky cloud.

"Hello, dearie."

* * *

" _Mel," barely a whisper. A shove. "Melanie."_

" _Who? What? Where?" she mumbled, rubbing the sleep off her eyes. She tried to blink the darkness off her eyes, raising herself on one elbow on the mattress. She blinked again and managed to make out the outline of a small head next to her. "Benny?"_

" _Nope, the Evil Queen," he answered. She could hear the eye roll in his tone. So young, yet so sarcastic._

" _Well, your Highness, may I ask what you're doing out of bed so late?"_

" _Melanie," his voice lost its teasing tone. He was all seriousness now. The girl was still surprised at his ability to sound so mature and adult when he wanted to. "I'm worried."_

 _She sat up and pulled him onto the bed. He squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position. A ray of moonlight illuminated half his face._

" _What are you worried about?" She didn't have to ask. She knew._

" _Mom. I'm worried she won't get better."_

 _Melanie wanted to say "she will be fine, don't worry" but it would be a lie. She wouldn't lie to him. Soon it would be him and her against the odds, and he would be the only person in the world she could trust. She wanted him to trust her too._

" _She might not, Benny. There isn't any medicine for her illness."_

" _She's strong, though." He argued. "She could fight it off."_

" _Yes, she could." It pained her to have to bear the bad news, but she did. "Chances are, though, she won't."_

 _Benny's little round face filled with sadness and thought. "You could help her. With your get better song."_

" _I don't think it would work," she told him, closing her eyes. "It only heals scrapes and grazes."_

" _You could try," he said._

" _I could."_

* * *

 **A.N: There you go! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for the reviews and speculation, it is** _ **really**_ **nice to see you guys invested in the story.**


	11. The Dark One

**The Dark One**

Rumpelstiltskin.

 _Of all the magic-wielders on this blasted island,_ her mind complained, _you had to run into Rumpelstiltskin!_

Melanie's heart was still galloping in her chest, trying to recover from the shock of the last few seconds. Everything had happened too fast. Her brain hadn't yet processed everything. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or wary. After all, she was in the presence of the Dark One, and he could never be trusted.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" the man asked. His lips were set in his usual smile, but his eyes held a deeper darkness, one he hardly ever let show. It was enough to send chills down Mel's spine.

 _You're not safe yet._

"Rumpel," she said, forcing a smile. He looked different from when she'd last seen him, on the boat. This man looked a bit… well, edgy. Neverland had seemed to add years onto his normally ageless face. Yet, somehow, he looked more determined also. Like he knew what he had to do, and no one would keep him from doing it.

"Why are you out here?" he inquired, pacing around her slowly.

"I was about to ask you that," she admitted. "What am I doing here?"

The Dark One frowned, stopping in his tracks. He turned to study her, as if looking for an answer to a very annoying problem.

She opened her mouth to respond and promptly closed it. What was going on? Why was she one minute in the camp and the next out in the middle of the forest? Accompanied by Rumpelstiltskin. It was all very strange. And stranger still that he seemed as confused, if not a little disappointed, himself. She'd thought he'd brought her here, purposefully, with magic.

How could she trust him at all? He had abandoned them to this death-trap of an island. He'd left to do his own hero thing. Except he wasn't a hero, he was a power-hungry villain. One with the tendency to make people regret their deals almost as soon as they'd made them. And it wasn't like Mel hadn't dealt with him before, she knew firsthand how unpleasant and dangerous he could be.

Melanie's eyes did a quick scan of her surroundings. Trees and more trees. All the landscapes here looked the same. She had no clue where she was, only that it was no longer Pan's compound. Even if she managed to run from Rumpel, which was unlikely in the best of circumstances, she'd be completely lost and alone. Even if she despised the Dark One, even if she didn't trust him one bit, she had no choice but to cooperate with him. Plus, maybe this was the one chance she'd been praying for all along. Maybe now she could send a message to Emma.

"I was in Pan's camp," she explained, pausing briefly when he raised an eyebrow. "He- I was… um- I was captured by the lost boys a little after arriving on land. He'd been keeping me prisoner for a while. One moment I was being walked by that guard," she said, pointing to the fallen figure, "and the next we wound up here. I believe that was your doing."

"Yes," he murmured, almost to himself. He shook his head suddenly, as if no longer able to hold in his anger. His eyes flashed a dangerous shade.

"I take it that wasn't your intention, then."

"Oh, I did intend to pull someone out of that camp, dearie," he smiled sourly, "it just wasn't you."

"Henry," she said. Not a question but a statement.

Melanie knotted her hands together behind her back, to still her nervous energy. Rumpel had been hoping to retrieve his grandson with the spell and instead he'd gotten her. She couldn't even imagine the amount of magic and concentration he had put into that spell. It didn't seem like the kind of stunt he could pull twice.

"Have you seen him?" The Dark One inquired.

 _Should I tell him? Can I trust him?_

 _Well, it's not like you have another choice,_ her brain argued.

"I have," she started slowly. Rumpel's reaction was immediate, his eyes lit up with a hungry, determined fire. "I spoke to him this morning," she continued, "and he looks fine." At Rumpelstiltskin's skeptical look she added, "Undamaged, I mean. He's just waiting for his family to go get him."

"Interesting."

Ignoring the beads of sweat running down her spine, both from the heat and her nervousness, she took a tentative step toward the Dark One. "Look, you have to send Emma a message from me. I've been scouting the camp," she said, "and listening in on conversations to figure out a way to aid the escape. With your help, I could communicate with the team from inside the compound, and that way we could get Pan by surprise."

The hard smile and pitch-black twinkle in his eyes froze her heart. "Oh, dear! You think you're going back into the camp," he laughed humorlessly.

"Why wouldn't I be going?" she asked in a quiet voice, backing away from him. "That's where I'm more useful, it's where we can get information."

"There is no 'we' in this rescue, dearie." Rumpel said, dropping his false grin. "I'm going to get Henry out, because I'm the only one who can. And you're simply the means through which I'll do it."

"Okay," she gulped, breathing in shallow breaths. "Just send me back and I'll help." The closer he got, the less air seemed to enter her lungs. For a moment, she wished she was back in the camp, surrounded by the noise and the boys. Protected. Ironic, the one place that was her prison, her cage, was also her safe-guard.

"Pan won't take you back nicely, you know that."

His magic pulsed like a living heart in the air around her, pumping fear into her veins. She was afraid that if she breathed in too deeply she'd suck the darkness into herself.

"He knows, by now, that you've been outside. That you've talked to someone, spilled his secrets. He wouldn't take the chance of accepting you back, just like that."

"You don't know that," she argued, desperate. She already felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.

"I do, you do, and so does he."

"So what help can I be to you?"

"You'll see," he chuckled darkly.

All light blinked out of existence.

* * *

Melanie struggled against the ropes binding her hands and feet together, to no avail. The raucous wind howled, pushing her hair back from her face and freezing her body as she stood precariously on the edge of a cliff. Beneath her, the churning waters of Neverland clashed on the spiky rocks of the beach.

"You remember my instructions, right dearie?" Rumpel whispered from behind her. She could smell the stench of dark magic on him, it was nearly making her gag.

"This is madness," she gritted through clenched teeth. "Let me go and we can work something out."

"Let me think," Rumpel said, rubbing his chin in mock consideration. "No."

"He won't come," Mel said, for the millionth time since she'd woken up. "I'm not that important to his plan." Trembling from head to toe, only partially because of the cold, she continued, "All you'll accomplish is killing me."

"You'll find you're mistaken." Rumpel assured her, she felt him securing her bindings. "And if not, well… so sorry dearie." He laughed his trademark laugh, and pushed her off the edge.

The fall lasted forever and no time at all. She felt weightless, tumbling down to the sea. In a way, the adrenaline burning in her veins and the wind in her hair, she felt like she was flying. And then the water smacked her body with enough force to rattle her bones. It was icy cold and enveloped her in a matter of seconds. The salty taste of it invaded her mouth as she sank helplessly under.

 _I can't believe I came all this way just to drown,_ she cried in her mind. _I can't believe after everything,_ everything _I did to save my brother, I won't even get to see him one last time. My Benny._

 _Stupid Rumpelstiltskin,_ she cursed, _and his stupid plans. Pan isn't coming to save me; he doesn't care enough about my magic. I'm not important to his plan. Rumpel probably did the kid a favor by getting rid of me._

The girl could feel her skin turning to ice, feel her heartbeat slowing. Already the air in her lungs escaped through bubbles rushing to the surface. Soon she would give in and suck the sea water into her body. She would die and her corpse would be food for the mermaids. What a terrible waste.

With each passing second her surroundings grew darker, and the pain in her chest grew unbearable. She managed to discern a shape, a shadow, moving toward her.

 _Oh, great! I get to spend my last moments as fish-food._

She shut her eyes tight, not wanting to face death just yet. Then she felt arms snaking around her waist, and tugging her upward. Melanie kept her eyes shut, sure that she was delirious, that this was her brain's last hallucination, an attempt to protect her from the truth of the horrible demise that awaited her. The 'arms' around her weren't human, they weren't warm and they didn't feel real. However, the feeling of shooting up was very real. Incredibly real.

Unable to bear the suspense any longer, Melanie opened her eyes to the weirdest sight. The shadow, the same one who had kidnapped Benny and countless others, stared back at her with its creepy glowing 'eyes'. It was enough of a shock to scare her into opening her mouth in a bubbling scream. But before she could use any last strength to push away they broke the surface and clean air forced itself into her lungs. It was a painful pleasure.

The shadow shot up into the sky, flying with keen purpose, and Melanie prayed it wouldn't let go. Its body was ethereal, almost see-through. She had no idea how it had grabbed her. Seconds later, they crested the cliff she'd been rudely pushed off, and landed somewhat bumpily a safe distance from it. The shadow released her like a sack of potatoes in front of a pair of worn-green leather boots.

Before her, standing with all the grace of a prince, was Peter Pan. Melanie wasn't sure whether her relief at his presence was a good thing or not. Her feelings were in a jumble, and all she could think at that moment was how glad she was to rid her lungs of sea-water.

"Went out for a swim, did you lass?" he purred, crouching in front of her. His green eyes latched onto hers in that unshakable way.

"No," she coughed, shaking the wet curls plastered to her face, "bungee-jumping. Without the rope."

He laughed at that, pushing a strand from her eyes. "The rope's there," he said, pointing to her binds, "you just seem to have misused it."

"Silly me," she replied in a monotone. With a swish of his fingers the ties vanished and she inspected her sore wrists gingerly.

"Melanie," he said softly. Just the sound of her name on his lips sent a shock of _something_ through her shivering body. She couldn't quite place it, and wasn't sure she wanted to.

 _It's okay,_ she told herself, _you're just in shock. You nearly died and he pulled you out of the water. You're confused. That sort of thing messes with your head._

His fingers tilted her chin up, surprisingly gentle and warm, and she met his gaze. It was almost too overwhelming.

"What happened?" he asked. His voice was calm and his face composed, yet there was an underlying intrigue to his tone.

" _He won't come."_

" _You'll find you're mistaken."_

He had come, just as Rumpel had suspected. Even though he had nothing to lose in letting her die. Or maybe he thought he did. Maybe she had underestimated how much he was betting on her magic, how curious he was about it. That was nearly enough to make her laugh. Peter Pan had bought her bluff blindly. She had managed to get the best of him. Despite all odds.

Now she had to follow through with Rumpel's plan and get in Peter Pan's good graces. No matter how much she hated it, and hated working with Rumpel. For the time being, this was the only strategy she had, and he the only ally she could contact.

"I received your summons," she said, forcing herself to pull away from his touch. "I was being taken to see you when, somehow, the Dark One pulled me out of the camp." She studied his features as he took in her story, trying to discern how he was taking it. "He was hoping to get Henry. I don't know why he got me instead." Starting with the truth was a good way to earn his trust, and make her acting more believable.

"And why did you end up soaking wet?" Pan pressed, an unreadable glint in his eyes.

"You can imagine how disappointed he was to see me." She ran a hand through her hair, shaking the dampness from it. "Apparently, his parents failed to teach him anger management." The mention of parents was rewarded with a look of suspicion and maybe a hint of… fear.

 _What's that all about?_

"He wasn't all that invested in keeping our partnership after that."

"So he pushed you off a cliff?" Pan asked, a tad unconvinced.

"What? You think him incapable of harming the unsuspecting and innocent?" Mel laughed mirthlessly. At least this part she didn't have to act out. Her disgust at Rumpel was pure and true.

"No, I don't." He stood, setting his gaze on the horizon. "Why did you let him push you, though? Why were you letting yourself drown?"

"I had everything under control," she answered lamely. His only reply was a curt nod. She knew he wasn't convinced, and rightly so.

She pushed off the ground, making to stand. But after being deprived of oxygen for a while her balance wasn't all that great, and as she swayed the boy grabbed her shoulders. She knew she was supposed to be repulsed by him, and she was, but the warmth of his hands was a welcome respite from the chills that haunted her body, so she didn't pull away this time.

"I am tired of making deals with heroes. They never seem to pull through with their end of the bargain." She lied shamelessly.

"The Dark One doesn't exactly qualify as hero material, lass"

"No, I guess _he_ doesn't," she conceded, worried that she might have overdone it with the emphasis. But judging by the look in his green eyes, Pan was buying it.

Melanie knew to be cautious, though. She knew that his actions, like hers, might be staged. He could be playing her as she was trying to play him, she had to stay alert.

She felt devastatingly tired. Having to keep up with the game, keep up with Pan, was all-consuming. Sometimes it felt like drowning. It felt like plunging into the icy, deep ocean water, hands-tied. But in those moments when she was winning, when the power was in her hands, playing felt like… flying. Soaring through the heavens, heart filled with constellations.

Melanie was afraid of how much she enjoyed feeling powerful.

"You're cold," he realized, snapping her from her reverie.

"Well, I did just take a dip in the ocean," she scoffed, teeth chattering. "Fully-dressed."

"Why won't you spell it away?" he mused. She panicked, searching for a plausible answer, but then realized he wasn't really asking her, he was asking himself.

Pan cocked his head to the side, and looked at her as if he believed the answer was hidden on her face. He shook his head and turned on his heel, walking towards the forest. "Come on, lass. The boys miss you already."

Melanie started to follow when a weight suddenly settled on her shoulders, evoking a startled shriek, and nearly scaring her to death.

 _What the hell?_

It was a blanket. A warm fur blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She stared at Pan's retreating back. He gave no indication that he noticed her unflattering cry, although it was obvious that he had heard it and that the blanket could only be his doing.

Her head was pounding, like the ocean waves against the spiky rocks at bottom of the cliff. She didn't know what to make of anything. She didn't want to think too much. She'd had enough for one day without having to over-analyze Pan's mind tricks.

Hugging the fur for warmth, Melanie followed him into the forest.

* * *

 **A.N: So, there it is. I know I took almost a year to update, which is simply ridiculous, and I know it, so… sorry? To tell you guys the truth I had almost abandoned this fic, real-life was getting kind of scary and overwhelming, and I was so busy. But somehow I found myself thinking about this story, and everything I still wanted to do with it. And it was so comforting coming back and working on it. I think I will take it to the end. I am so sorry for leaving you guys hanging, though. I hope you can still embark on this journey with me, and enjoy it as I will. See you next chapter!**


	12. The Ghost

_**The Ghost**_

 _The funeral was simple._

 _A spot of freshly turned earth and a stone with a crude inscription, were the only markings of the grave. Surrounding it were the town clergyman, the physician and the two orphaned kids. They stood solemnly, heads down in mourning. The clergyman was uttering a few words, but the young girl couldn't hear him. A soft ringing in her ears filtered every comforting phrase and good-willed message. The warmth of Benny's hand was the only feeling piercing the thick layer of numbness that enveloped her._

 _She had known it was all leading up to this, but that knowledge hadn't helped prepare her one bit. Her mother was dead. The thought was like a bomb going off in her windpipe, forcing all the air out and leaving only emptiness and a burning sensation._

 _Her mother had been the last light in a very dark world, and now Melanie was left in utter darkness. She hadn't cried a single tear, hadn't been able to, that is. The void her mother had left had carved her hollow like a pumpkin, and instead of tears she found herself choking on the nothingness that remained. There was no one left to take care of her, to clean and kiss her scrapes and bruises, to hold her through her nightmares. She was alone in a cruel, mean world._

 _She felt a gentle tug on her arm and, pushing through the fog in her mind, she looked down and saw her little brother, her little Benny, staring up at her with his incredibly round brown eyes._

" _The doctor-man wants to talk to you, Mel." He said, voice soothing and measured, sounding nothing like she expected him to. "I think you should go talk to him."_

 _For a few seconds, she could do nothing else but stare at him. He was the little kid, he was the one who should be freezing up, who should be panicking and crying and scared. However, his reaction seemed to be much the opposite. He was staying calm and listening and living in the real world while she imploded. It was in that moment, gazing into his eyes, that Melanie realized how wrong all of this was. She was the big sister and she had to act like it. She had to be steady and strong, so Benny wouldn't have to. He depended solely on her now, and she could not afford to lose her head to fear and mourning._

 _The little boy smiled a tentative, reassuring smile and squeezed her hand. And in those simple actions, he worked more magic than Melanie could ever of produce. She loved him with her very existence, every breath and every heartbeat spelled her love. She was not alone. With that smile, he took a match to her heart and lighted the stubby candle that resided in it, and though the flame flickered it stayed burning._

* * *

"Why is the girl back in the compound?"

"Because I brought her back, Felix." Pan sighed, annoyance creeping into his tone. He disliked arguing with the other boy, it was tiring and wasteful, and it was especially so this time. His shoulders tensed, and his magic instinctively coiled up because of his defensive attitude.

"I know that," his second in command frowned, "and I'm asking you why you did it." Felix wore a genuinely puzzled expression and having to look at it brought up a turmoil of thoughts and doubts better left untouched.

Peter Pan turned on his heels in a rehearsed movement, choosing to face the wilderness rather than his right-hand man. His gaze naturally shifted to the stars, as it often did when he was troubled. They were exceptionally beautiful tonight.

"She is of more use to us here than out there, feeding information to the Savior and her ragtag rescue-group. Keeping her close is the best way to ensure she's not tipping the power scale elsewhere."

"But you said that it was the Dark One's magic that pulled her out of camp. If she's in league with him, she could very well cause trouble from the inside. She's already got more influence over the lost boys than I'm comfortable with, and with someone like him backing her up…" he trailed off, shaking his head, "I don't see why take the risk of keeping her alive."

"I take the risks I deem necessary." Pan snapped, unable to contain his irritation and the flare of anger in his chest. "Do you have a problem with that? Or must I justify all my choices to you now?"

"Not at all," Felix replied in an appeasing tone, "I trust your choices. I trust your leadership. You've never led us astray before, and I believe you can get us to our goal."

But, though his words were submissive, Pan could tell in he still had qualms about the subject. Felix was one of Pan's oldest followers and his most trusted advisor, and reading him was as easy as reading an open book. The boy had no reason to hide any of his intentions and had never attempted to, simply because his only motive was to serve his leader the best he could. And Peter Pan had always, _always_ credited his advice. Except, today...

Felix could tell nothing more would come of this discussion now. Pan was acting strange, overly tense and prickly, and the best thing to do was to leave him to his own thoughts. So, with a parting nod, he left, slinking through the vegetation.

As soon as the other boy's silhouette had disappeared amidst leaves and branches, Pan's magic erupted in an exasperated blow, knocking down a tree. He panted, anger and annoyance swimming in his eyes as he reined in his powers. It had been a long time since he'd lost control and blasted away. It had been a long time since he'd lost anything, to be honest. And Peter Pan hated losing.

He was confused on so many levels and, added to that, his lack of self-control was bothering him more than he'd care to admit. He'd wanted to persuade Felix that he was doing what was right, and deep down, he wanted to convince himself of it also. He was the master schemer, the top player. This was his game board and he was in control of every move, he had to be.

 _It was a purely logical choice_ , he assured himself. _I can't have a wild card prancing about Neverland. I need her here, where I can keep an eye on her, where I know what she's doing. Plus, she's a strong gambling tool. And her magic…_

Her magic was driving him insane. He couldn't understand it, couldn't read or decipher it and the not knowing was unsettling his nerves. Every sort of magical power was tied to the wielder's core, to who they were and what they could do. The Dark One's magic felt like a heavy black fog, waiting to envelop and consume; the Savior's, bright and fiery, like a supernova. But Melanie's was something else. It was alive, changing and always, always glowing. Sometimes like an ember and others like a bonfire. She was a mystery. A game of sorts, one he was dying to figure out.

However, he could not allow himself to be derailed. He had a goal, one that had taken centuries to plan and prepare for, and now finally the last piece was in his grasp. The heart of the Truest Believer would soon be his and with it unlimited power. Peter Pan was going to win, he just had to keep his wits about him. It sounded easy, after all he was known as a plotter and a worthy adversary and clever beyond belief. It was just that, whenever she was around… things got messy and unclear and terribly, terribly curious.

 _Why was she here? What did she want? Why wasn't she fazed by him?_

Those were the questions occupying his mind, not the more important ones, like 'how do I eliminate her without starting a riot' _,_ or 'how can I intimidate her into cooperating?'.

 _It's fine,_ he reassured himself, _those thoughts are completely normal. Curiosity is a tool, a means through which obtain information. And it just so happens that she sparks more curiosity than I expected her to._ And answering the first set of questions would be an absurd amount of help in figuring out the important ones, actually. He was being extremely rational and cautious about the subject, contrary to what anyone else might believe.

Although… there were moments.

Moments like when he'd felt her presence leave camp or when she was drowning, that his actions were not as precisely planned or casually executed as he'd like. When he stood on top of the cliff and felt, deep in his gut, her magic flaying, frantic and wild as she dove deeper into the sea, he knew that he should've waited a bit. Waited for her to get really desperate, to see if she'd use her magic. To see what she could do with it. But he couldn't stand feeling her panic, it felt like someone had plunged a hook into his heart. And he'd felt tempted, if only for a fleeting moment, standing on that cliff, to jump in after her and pull her out of the water himself. But that would've been stupid and foolish. And it's not like he would've _actually_ done it… it had merely been an inconsequential impulse. It didn't mean anything.

In fact, his muddled thinking was probably a result of all the time he spent pondering her position as a player in his game. He'd been invested in figuring out her role, her motive, and it felt like a waste to let her die before unraveling her secrets. He was a curious bloke.

 _But that curiosity can't get in the way of the bigger picture,_ he reminded himself. _My efforts must be towards the Truest Believer, and I will not let anything, or anyone divert my attentions from that goal._

He had to get rid of the threat the girl posed to his security as leader, as quickly as possible. And then, he had to get rid of her.

* * *

Melanie sat on her usual tree-stump, observing the lost boys work around her. After a few weeks living amongst them, she started to appreciate the fluidness of their routines, how they seemed to work in perfect harmony like a well-tuned machine. A couple of kids were gathering fire-wood and stacking it neatly in the center of the clearing, others were changing guard posts, and the remainder were training with wooden weapons. And this was only one part of the large compound. Melanie knew, from the chatter surrounding her, that the main living quarters were on the opposite side of her own, where she wasn't welcome to go. Probably, because Henry was being housed there, and Pan wanted her as far away as possible from the boy. Which meant sneaking there would be difficult, as Pan had both magic and living guards bustling about the place, and they'd intercept her easily unless she had a solid plan.

 _I need a solid plan_ , she muttered to herself.

The Dark One had requested she find his grandson and deliver him a message, briefly before pushing her off a cliff. And now, three days later, Melanie had not come close to formulating a decent plot to get her where she needed to go. The whole idea of her "near-death experience" was to convince Pan she had no reason to side with the Savior or her gang anymore, so she could gain his trust. But…

But she hadn't seen him since he'd magicked the blanket onto her shoulders. He hadn't show his face anywhere near her assigned area. It made her… uneasy. And a little bit disappointed.

 _Stop it, stop thinking like that. You should count your blessings that he hasn't been hounding you recently. You have time to think, to prepare. You can't be this confused mess when you see him again._

The last few days had been… difficult. Her mind hadn't had a moment of rest, she kept replaying the whole deal with Rumpel and her meeting with Pan afterwards. Her over-worked brain was nearly exploding with so many puzzle-pieces that wouldn't fit together tossed about. And she always came back to him, to his reaction to her near drowning, to his small act of kindness. Why did he do that?

 _It wasn't kindness,_ she reminded herself, _he was trying to mess with your head. He saw your vulnerability as an opportunity to sway you. Nothing more._

The trouble was, the harder she tried to pry him from her thoughts the more he showed up in them. And never in the way he should, like an enemy or an obstacle, but like a person. A complex, befuddling person, and it just made her want to understand him.

 _There's nothing to understand, he kidnapped your brother and countless other kids. He's a villain, he's vile and abominable. End of story._

Shaking the pesky thoughts, Melanie rose from her stump and took to walking casually around the clearing, talking to some of the children and even receiving flowers from Lucas, who she hugged affectionately. She was almost completing a lap when she passed by the worn trail that led to the other side of camp, she noticed from the corner of her eyes when the guards standing post tensed and griped their weapons with more force as she passed, and their sigh of relief when she was a considerable distance from them.

Right, so she needed to come up with a distraction for the two guards, something to make them leave their post for at least ten minutes. Perhaps Liam could help her cook something up, he knew the inner workings of the camp better than she did. With the guards elsewhere, all that would be left was whatever magic Pan had left in place to conceal Henry. But since the boy had managed to come to her once, she hoped she could reach him with some ease.

And after that, she'd have to deal with Pan. She had to hope she could be convincing enough not to rouse suspicion, and then she had to charm him into believing she was on his side. She needed to get close to him to enact Rumpel's plan, she needed to get his guard down.

She couldn't help but notice how much of her plan was held together by sheer hope.

* * *

It was nighttime, the inside of camp was reasonably chilly but with the roaring fire sitting in the center of the clearing no one was really bothered by cold. Near to twenty boys sat in a semicircle around Mel's stump, all completely invested in the tale she was spinning. It involved a fierce warrior and a quest to save a loved one. The kids seemed to be enjoying it so far, it was the second night she was telling it and she figured it would take her one more to conclude it.

Melanie took great pleasure in telling stories to the lost boys, it was therapeutic and soul-cleansing. For half an hour, every night, she could ignore the weight of her responsibilities and her fear and uncertainty. She could soar away from everything and simply live in her imagination. The familiarity and comfort of it reminded her of when she told Benny bedtime stories.

When she finally wrapped up for the night, all the little kids hugged her goodnight and bustled back to their own accommodations. For one second, amidst the small faces she could have sworn she saw-

"Benny?"

But, like a ghost, in a blink of an eye he was gone, and she shook her head to clear the confusion. _I must be tired, I'm imagining things._

She was, of course, unaware of the pair of eyes observing her intently, concealed by a layer of magic. And with that almost inaudible utter, Melanie had inadvertently handed all her cards to the dealer of the game.

* * *

 _ **A.N: And there you go! I'm finally free from obligations, and with the Christmas spirit invading my life (and a good amount of free time) I'll be updating more frequently. I'd like to thank all of you for bearing with me, and for being so lovely and patient. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to leave a comment with your thoughts!**_


	13. The Hair

**The Hair**

The bird woke her up.

Melanie had been blissfully enraptured in the most pleasant dream she'd had in weeks when the sound of pecking on her window rudely pulled her from it. Absently rubbing the remainder of sleep from her eyes, the girl opened the simple wood-paneled window to let the creature inside.

It had been like this for the past couple of days. Every morning, at the crack of dawn, the small lovebird would come to her window, bearing a message from the Dark One wrapped around one of its legs. As soon as she'd untied the parchment, the bird would fly off for five minutes and then return for her reply. It was a rather ingenious system, she'd give Rumpel that.

Since Pan relied on magic all the time, it was to be expected that he would have wards to alert him to any sort of magical object trying to sneak into camp. He had, after all, felt Rumpel's magic pulling Melanie out of the compound. So, any sort of secret magical artifact for communication was out of question. But this method was far less likely to be discovered, thanks to its mundanity. The bird was well trained, but not one ounce magical, so there would be no giveaway to their secret correspondence.

She expertly untied the petite roll from the lovebird's leg and the creature took off in flight immediately. Pushing through her unease, Mel carefully read the message and sighed in frustration. Rumpelstiltskin had been pressuring her for results for some time now, but his patience seemed to be wearing thin. He needed her to locate Henry so he could begin to plan the boy's extraction from camp, but Mel had been putting off the task for two reasons.

The first, getting to the other -forbidden- side of camp would be extremely difficult and raise a lot of suspicion if done carelessly. She would not doubt catch Pan's attention and she had to be ready to throw him off when the time came. The second, she knew not to trust the Dark One. After handing him his grandson's location she lost her bargaining chip, she would have nothing more to offer in exchange for her brother's rescue. And Rumpel never did anything that would not benefit him in the end. So, added to her list of things to figure out was "how to blackmail the Dark One".

Except now Rumpel was tired of listening to her excuses, he needed the location by tonight or else their deal was off, and all of Melanie's hopes for escape were lost. She rested her forehead on the windowsill, trying to swallow the panic rising in her throat. She couldn't lose this opportunity, she had to figure everything out today.

 _I need Liam._

* * *

The view from atop the cliff was breathtaking. The ocean looked more green than blue today, and the waves crashed loudly on the rocks below, creating a unique symphony. Pan simply stood there, looking out at the inky line of the horizon, allowing the sun to warm his face.

 _Benny._

The unassuming name had stolen his attention for the whole night. Figuring out who it belonged to was the most important thing on his mind, at the moment. If he knew who this Benny character was, he would have the leverage needed to uproot Melanie from camp without losing the loyalty of his lost boys. Everything would fall into place and, finally, he would have the power he deserved.

The Shadow had assured him that finding Benny was all it would take to bring the girl down. Pan didn't argue, he was aware of the being's ability to influence the unsuspecting, to assume the form of a beloved to trick its victims. And, though Pan could not see the image Melanie's brain had projected onto the Shadow last night, he had managed to obtain a name.

 _Benny._

From the look on her face when she'd said it, Pan was certain this was the path to her undoing. When she'd laid eyes on the Shadow, the air seemed to leave her lungs. Her lips had parted, and her head tilted delicately to the side as if puzzling over a particularly trying problem. The name itself had been a barely audible, almost disbelieving, breath. If not for his magically enhanced senses, Pan would've missed it.

 _Who is this Benny? What does he mean to her?_

Already, operatives outside of Neverland had been alerted and were looking into the case, searching her history and the name. But with such a vague clue it was bound to take time to track down this boy, wherever he was.

 _The point is, you've got a lead,_ he reminded himself, _and you're back on top of the game. From here, it's a clean shot to the end._

Get rid of the girl. Obtain the heart. Rule with limitless power.

All he ever wanted, as the Shadow had so courteously recapped last night. Nevertheless, there was something… missing. Peter Pan had been studiously ignoring the nagging feeling for days now, but it hadn't faded away as he'd hoped. He'd been studiously ignoring _her_ for the last four days also, and yet the memory of her drowning and his absentminded moment of kindness afterwards hadn't stopped plaguing him either.

He just wished he'd figured out her magic by now, that's all. Nothing more. Nothing dangerous. He'd been set on dissecting her powers and how they worked and he hadn't managed to do it. It was a tad disappointing, but nothing to get hung up on. He had more important matters.

"Sir," a rather nervous voice called from behind him.

Peter turned, a semi-menacing glint in his eyes. He hated being disturbed, especially when he'd warned the guards to leave him alone. "What?" he gritted.

"I- um, I'm sorry, sir," the boy stuttered, gripping his weapons tighter. "But there's an emergency," he continued, a little braver, "down at the south-wing."

 _Melanie._

He tensed his jaw, irritated that his first thought was of her.

 _It doesn't mean anything._

"Well, fix it," he snapped. "Twenty guards on duty, and none of you are capable of containing the problem?"

"It's- well," the boy stammered, breaking under the harsh stare of his leader. "Felix has requested you come and see it, sir. He said you needed to see it," he finished lamely.

The pit of nerves in his stomach knotted uncomfortably. Morphing his expression into one of nonchalant indifference, Pan followed the boy.

* * *

 _Her hands and knees were aching from scrubbing the floors. She'd been in the same posture for far too long and her hunched back was giving the first signs of pain, a promise that she wouldn't be getting a good sleep tonight._

 _Plopping the soapy brush into the old bucket, Melanie stood, stretching high up in hopes of relieving some of the soreness. Her young hands were roughened and shaped by hard work. They were not the hands of a child, of a young girl. They were the hands of an orphan who had been forced to face reality too soon._

 _She carried the bucket, careful to not slosh the dirty water onto the newly cleaned floor, and made her way to the back of the house._

 _It was not a big house, nor was it a rich one, but in times of war and famine it was certainly a well maintained one. Her uncle praised himself on keeping an impeccable home and an equally impeccable appearance. She could see no trace of her father in him, despite their similar upbringings. Her uncle was sharp and pragmatic, a man looking only to profit and rise in standing. He was not kind or warm, and he certainly wasn't loving._

 _It was a miracle that he had taken her and Benny in, and given them food and clothes. She had not expected him to love or hold any sort of affection for them. In her plan, Mel would be the parental figure in Benny's life, she would care for him and show him warmth. Her uncle's role was merely of a provider, he would give them shelter and food. She would make sure her brother's childhood was a happy one._

 _But things had been a little different than she'd imagined, living with him. She and Benny weren't, by any definition, guests in his home. He expected them to work to earn their stay, and that meant grueling chores, running errands and staying out of sight. The most important rule was obedience. Her uncle was a man used to getting his way with everything and it would be no different in his household. He accepted no arguments or disagreements, his orders were not up for debate._

 _Reaching the backyard, Melanie disposed of the filthy water and left the bucket upside-down to dry. The cool wind caressed her face for a fleeting moment, smelling of the woods and of spring, and it relieved her pains, if only for a moment._

 _Knowing the man she lived with, Mel finally understood her mother's unyielding behavior towards her using magic. Some people could see no further than their own needs and desires, and her uncle was that sort of person. If he knew of her magic then she would be forever his slave, he would not hesitate to mine her dry if he thought he could make money off it._

 _She thanked her lucky stars he was oblivious to that particular… talent of hers._

 _Tomorrow would be the beginning of the weekend and she had promised Benny she'd take him to the town square to see the outdoors-theater. Wiping her hands on her apron, she quietly walked through the kitchens, heading upstairs to see if her brother had finished his chores for the day. She never even reached the first step._

" _What beautiful hair you have, child!"_

 _Melanie froze in place, barely breathing._

No, no, no, this can't be happening.

" _Melanie," her uncle called, his tone courtly for the sake of the visitor. "Come here child, let Madam Bough see you properly."_

 _Mel felt like someone had lodged a stone in her throat. She couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow. Hiding her trembling hands behind her back, she turned around and moved towards the large pampered woman standing next to her uncle. The lady was highborn, it was evident in her aristocratic features and her wastefully expensive clothes. The fact that her face wasn't sullen with hunger was also a good indicator._

 _The woman ran her greasy hands through Melanie's tight brown locks and the girl had to stifle the urge to cringe. She could see her uncle's stern face out of the corner of her eye, willing her to behave and not embarrass him in front of his guest. Their deal required that she and Benny stay out of sight at all times, no one was to see them in the house but the cook and the stable boy. She had already broken, though not purposefully, one of his many rules. The consequences would be dreadful._

" _Such lovely locks," the woman giggled, pulling on a strand of hair. "It's a pity they're wasted on a commoner such as yourself. These are sure to make everyone in court marvelously jealous!"_

 _Melanie tried for a smile but her nerves were too high-strung and it came out more of a grimace. All she wanted was for this to be over so she could fly up the stairs lock herself and Benny in their small room, holding him close and pretending that they were okay. She could feel her magic starting to burn at the pit of her stomach, the air in the room seemed to fill with static from it._

No, no, no! Stop! I can't lose control here, I won't, I won't!

 _A shuddering breath escaped her slightly parted lips as she took a gentle step back, out of the Madam's greedy reach. The need to leave, to run infiltrated her bones. Never had her magic risen to the surface of her skin without her commanding it. She hadn't sung, hadn't even uttered a single word. This was not normal, this was her losing control._

 _Her uncle shot her a reproaching look but she barely registered it, the blood was pounding in her ears drowning everything out. She willed her hair not to glow._

" _How much do you want for it?" the woman asked._

" _What?" One syllable. It was all Melanie could manage through the shock. She realized a beat later that Madam Bough had not been asking her, she'd asked her uncle._

" _A thousand," he replied promptly, an almost hungry look in his beady eyes._

" _You're such a tease," the lady laughed, exaggeratedly. "No one pays that much on a wig. I'll give you five-hundred," she proposed._

" _Six-hundred."_

" _Sold!" the bothersome woman smiled._

 _It took Mel a moment to fully understand what had happened. He'd sold her hair._ Her hair. _They were going to cut it off._

" _No," she muttered at first quietly and then again louder, "no!"_

 _Her uncle's fulminous gaze rested on her daring her to defy him. She couldn't make her tongue cooperate, couldn't form words. She just stood there shaking her head vehemently, and clenching her fists so hard that small crescents marked the skin of her palms for days._

" _Don't worry child," Madam Bough laughed, her shrill voice damaging to the ears. "It's just hair, it'll grow back in no time."_

 _The sound of the scissors echoed in her head. She sat like a rag doll, held up by nothing and threatening to fall at any moment. She felt like a thousand pins were being pushed into her heart all at once, and it was almost too much to bear. A single silent tear raced down her cheek and fell into her open palm, and she felt like someone had cut off her fire._

 _The familiar, comforting weight of her locks was gone and she was left faint, fearing that any wind, any sudden move would send her head flying off to the heavens._

 _It never grew back._

* * *

The shouting was the first give-away. Goads and angry protests carried through camp like a sonorous trail, leading one to the source, an ugly brawl happening in the center of south-wing.

Twenty or so kids were gathered in a circling mass around the two fighters, some egging on the conflict and others pleading for it to stop. The younger, more sensitive lost boys bore tear stains on their cheeks and a wobbling lower lip. The crowd surged like an agitated beast, erasing the individuals and essentially becoming one insatiable mob, desperate for violence.

That was how Pan found his soldiers. His followers. His lost boys.

At the center of the clearing, causing the tumult were two kids. One a young boy and recruit, the other a reasonably bigger kid who had obviously participated in more fist-fights. The small ginger was losing, predictably. His nose was broken and swollen, purple-red blood oozing down over his lips and chin. He was taking quite the beating and yet he did not run or cower, as was expected of him. With every blow a renewed sense of purpose entered his eyes, at every stumble and fall he rose on wobbling but determined feet.

Pan knew this kid, he was _her_ favorite, the one who'd defended her when she'd been stuck in a cage. Liam was his name, he believed.

 _He's most certainly brave and if not a tad foolish._

The others were so concentrated on the grisly display, they did not notice the arrival of their peeved leader. Blowing out an exasperated breath, Peter Pan spread his hands in a parting motion, sending both brawlers flying in opposite directions and pining them to trees. The crowd gasped and spun, facing the blond boy whose gaze was deathly calm.

"Leave," he ordered.

Quick as lightning, the mob dispersed, eager to evade the wrath of Pan. Only Felix and the guards stationed at the trail-entrances remained.

"Would you mind filling me in?" he spoke, addressing his right-hand man but eyeing the magically-petrified boys.

Felix moved to stand beside his leader, clasping his hands behind his back. "Perhaps you should ask them," he nodded towards the two panting boys.

He released his magical-hold on the ginger and the older boy and beckoned them with a twitch of his fingers. Both seemed wary but approached him, nonetheless. Liam, despite his injuries, tried to hold himself up with some dignity.

"Why were you two wasting time and energy by clawing at each other?"

The bigger boy's face scrunched up in an angry frown, "He started it."

Pan took a step closer to him and brought his tone dangerously low. "Did I ask who started it?"

"He was being disrespectful, sir."

Pan slowly turned to face the ginger and, sizing the boy up, he asked, "To whom?"

The kid wiped his chin with the back of his hand, managing only to paint more of his face crimson. His nose was purple now and blood kept pouring out of it in rivulets. "To our Mother, sir."

Pan couldn't help the look of shock that colored his face. He understood now why Felix had summoned him to handle a brawl. This was more than two kids punching each other senseless. This was his army, his lost boys, turning on each other. She had divided his soldiers. This was the first sign of a to-be riot.

He remembered Felix's warnings, his unease at letting the girl back into camp. He'd been proven right. She endangered everything.

The situation had to handled cautiously.

"How so?"

"He and some other boys," Liam spoke, his voice odd due to his injured nose, "they say mean things. They talk about… doing things to her, horrid things. I've heard them, and others have too. I told them to stop, but they wouldn't listen. I had to do something."

The ginger's words were like a slap in the face. Peter Pan barely kept his composure this time, as his fingertips burned with magic begging to be let out. This explained her words the other night, about the boys being too friendly towards her. Had any of them tried to…

A supernova seemed to have exploded in his lungs.

"Go get cleaned up," he told Liam, maintaining an absurd amount of self-control. "And next time, bring the matter to one of your superiors. The only person allowed to sanction a fight in this camp is me."

The boy nodded and bowed his head submissively before going, leaving bloody drops in his wake.

"Gather his friends," Pan barked, indicating the now trembling older boy, "and alert the rest of camp. I'm holding a meeting tonight. It's time we established some order around here."

* * *

 _ **A.N: Phew, so that was a long one! In fact, I believe it's the longest chapter yet. And this is in no way me trying to make up for not updating regularly (wink). Anyway… I hope you guys liked this one, I have some really exciting stuff planned for chapter 14 so stay tuned. Please leave your thoughts, and comment your predictions!**_


	14. The Magic

**A.N: This chapter has been updated, some changes were made. You can reread it if you wish. The next one is coming soon.**

* * *

 **The Magic**

Melanie's heart beat erratically in her chest. Her lungs burned from running across camp. Her feet ached from the hard pebbles and twisting roots in her path.

She was elated.

 _I found him. I found Henry._

Victory lighted up her entire being. With the boy's location, she held a powerful bargaining tool against the Dark One. This information would get her and Benny off the island. It would.

All thanks to Liam and his distraction, she'd managed to sneak around and find the Truest Believer's accommodations. She didn't know how Liam had done it but made a mental note to hug him to death later.

She slowed her pace to a leisurely stroll and smoothed down her wild curls as the path gave way to the familiar clearing. Melanie halted just before the bend and took a deep breath to settle her excitement. She had to be as unremarkable as possible when the boys saw her, no alarm could be raised if she wanted to convince Pan of her loyalty.

For the first time in a long time, it felt doable. She felt invincible.

That is, until she walked into Liam sitting alone in the empty clearing, nose purplish-black, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. His chin was painted in dried blood.

The bees of Neverland had abandoned their hives to make a home in her stomach, angrily buzzing. She wanted to puke.

 _Why is he hurt, why is there blood – so much blood – on his face?_

"Melanie?" Liam called, as if sensing her approach. His small face lit up despite the ugly bruise.

The invisible shackles weighing her down turned to dust when she heard his voice. Her maternal instincts overpowered her brain sending wave of power through her. She sprinted towards him, anguish blossoming in her chest.

 _What happened?! What happened?! What happened?!_

"Liam-" she gasped, dropping to her knees in front of him. Her hands shot out to inspect the boy but faltered half-way when she noticed he was openly gaping at her.

Melanie's heart did a flip, seized by growing fear.

"Woah," the little boy squeaked. "Your hair – it's glowing. How are you doing that?"

1, 2, 3 seconds. The ground lurched under her feet, her head was as light as cloud. "What?"

Her hair – her _magic_ was glowing. After years dormant, she felt her power pulsing, spreading heat from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. She felt like someone had taken a match to the stubby candle in her heart. But the panic in her lungs picked up speed like a tornado and threatened to blow that flame into a wildfire.

 _Can I contain it?_

Liam's eyes glowed with curiosity as he watched her and, overcoming his initial awe, reached out a hand to touch one of her loose curls. Melanie jerked back at once, scrambling to put some distance between them.

 _This isn't happening. This. Isn't. Happening._

"Liam," she croaked. "Wait, stay back."

The ginger tilted his head in confusion, hand dropping back to his side. "I don't get it," he shook his head. "Why do you look so scared? It's just your magic, isn't it?"

Magic. Magic. Magic.

 _Am I in control of my magic?_

"Yes," she agreed, trying to balance back on her own two feet. It had been so long since she'd had it coursing through her freely like this. Melanie was afraid of her lack of control – afraid that it would run away with her and never come back. "It's m-my magic but I- I'm not controlling it. I didn't c-call it up."

Before her hair was cut, before she was an orphan, it was _just_ magic. She owned it, controlled it, reveled in it. She healed people – she did good.

But a lot had happened and she ended up despising it for so long, regretting her gifts so much, that they now scared her. Ever since her uncle sold her hair, Melanie hadn't been able to use her magic like before – it sputtered and failed. She hadn't been able to call up a glow for years, no matter how hard she tried.

Not until now. She hadn't uttered a word, hadn't sung at all – not even hummed. Yet, here it was, waking and growing and stretching and begging, begging to be let out.

 _Look at me_ , she laughed unhappily, _panicking over the power to heal scrapes and bruises. If I can't handle this, imagine what a mess I would be trying to do real magic._

"Melanie," Liam whispered. Somehow, he'd closed the distance between them without her noticing. His small bruised face was composed, his eyes trying to soothe – to calm her. "There's nothing to worry about," he assured, "this is your magic. It won't hurt – it's a part of you, like breathing. You don't have to control your lungs or command them, they know what to do. Your magic is like that too."

"Yeah?" Mel quivered, chest rising and falling unevenly. And in the back of her mind she wondered how he was so relaxed and confident – how he knew just what to say.

 _Why does he know so much about magic?_

The red-head lightly brushed her arm with the back of his hand and the effect was immediate. The magic and the heat poured out of her like a dam being released and shot into the boy. The breath left her all at once, as she watched Liam's nose return to place and to a light pink color, the clotted blood disappearing, right before her very eyes.

The boy's smile grew larger by the second, his eyes shining like two stars. He touched his face with both hands and beamed. "Hey – you fixed me!"

Melanie felt empty and full. Complete. A small laugh escaped her lips, "I did, I fixed you."

She had faced her worst fear – lost complete control – but everything was fine. Her magic was back, she felt it humming quietly just beneath the surface, and the knowledge didn't strike fear into her anymore. She was a healer, she reacted to hurt and pain, but could inflict no harm of her own. No matter how traumatized, uncontrollable or sputtering, her power would not turn against her.

Her heart swam in liquid gold.

"This. Is. So. Cool." Liam announced, giggling with joy.

She hugged him before giving into giggles.

* * *

"I rescued you from terrible homes and gave you family." Pan said, pacing in front of the assembled lost boys. "The least I expected was obedience and respect. It seems some of you have forgotten what that means."

Felix stood unmoving beside the kneeled perpetrators. Six boys - teenagers, really – all slightly trembling. The remaining lost boys alternated their gaze between their aggravated leader and their terrified peers. No one made any sound.

It hadn't been hard to identify the other five, the brawling kid was quick to give away the names. He had no interest in going down alone.

"When I say someone is a welcome guest in our compound I expect them to be treated with the utmost respect. I will not tolerate otherwise." He smiled a cold smile. "These boys will pay the price for their misbehavior – and so will any who follow their suit."

Pan stopped and carefully raked the crowd with his eyes. Their fear was tangible.

"I need not remind you that order is law in Neverland. I want no brawls, disputes or commotion in my camp. The only person allowed to sanction a fight is me. Do I make myself clear?"

The crowd was a sea of submissive nods.

"Felix, take these six to be punished. The rest of you, get back to work."

The kids dispersed quickly and quietly, eager to be out of Pan's sight.

The blond stood there watching the stars above him, contemplating how he would inform the shadow of these developments – it would be most displeased – when he felt her magic turn on.

Warm. Worried. Caring.

Gone, turned off like a tap.

He felt his heartrate quicken in anticipation. It was his turn to make a move on the playing board.

* * *

The stream gurgled peacefully under the light of the stars. Melanie rested on the bank, absently pulling at her short curls.

Her conversation with Liam replayed in the background of her thoughts – how she had thanked him, how he had fiercely hugged her, how she had inquired about his seeming knowledge and confidence about magic and his response nothing more than a cheeky and mysterious smile.

She'd never imagined coming to terms with her power. Ever since her mother's death, her hair had weighed her down like a curse. But this afternoon something changed. Clicked into place. She did not feel control over her magic – it remained unpredictable as always – however, she no longer feared the outburst.

Her magic, no matter how volatile, could only heal. And she'd forgotten how _good_ it felt to heal someone. The lightness that lingered afterward in her chest – like her heart had grown wings – was a state of ultimate inner peace.

Like the stream, she felt steady and calm.

 _You'll need that_ , she reminded herself. _You still need to deal with Pan._

She was certain her unplanned outburst had caught his attention. Nothing magical escaped his senses, especially not in his own compound. She was waiting for his move to initiate her plan.

 _You have the information Rumpel wants, half the plan is already complete. Now, you need Pan's trust. No big deal_ , she tried to assure herself. _You've come this far…_

The weight of his magic filled the space behind her. It was amazing to _feel_ it now that her magic had come back, almost like their powers were interacting, playing off one another. His presence was amplified to her senses, the pulse of his magic indistinguishable from the pounding of her heart.

"I see Liam's nose is back in place," Deceptively clear, casual tone. Ever the chess master, he tested his opponent – her – for an emotional response.

She merely nodded, denying him the pleasure of having her look up at him. The match had begun.

"Neat trick," he commended. The forest echoed the sound of the water.

"Isn't it?" Mel stood up, her gaze locking onto his calculating green eyes.

She was surprised to find the glint of victory in them. He was a conceited person, true, but after the time spent surviving in his camp she had earned enough of his respect to deserve a warier look. Specially, after the 'Rumpel incident'. Melanie cocked her head to the side, unease pressing down on her chest.

The blond boy, leaning casually against a bare tree trunk, gave her a practiced smile. One that spoke of mischievous intelligence and powerful leverage. "Funny how you've never used it on yourself. There have certainly been plenty of occasions to do so."

"Yes, and you've been there to do it for me in every single one." She returned his smile in a sweet disarming manner. Her eyes teased a very specific occasion and his expression showed he understood. The near-drowning. A twinge of satisfaction burrowed into her smile when she saw his jaw tense and his eyes narrow.

He'd never explained his actions that day. He could have let her drown. She certainly thought he would, yet contrary to all logic he had not. He'd used his magic to save her. Melanie needed him to focus on that one act and see it as a potential argument for trusting her.

Peter Pan cocked his head to the side like he was trying to solve a puzzle, a befuddling one. His lips parted for a second before he took a step toward her and inquired, unexpectedly direct, "What's your stake in this game?"

It was a heavy blow of honesty, one she hadn't prepared for. Pan was one for skirting around the edges of a subject, slowly and methodically cornering his opponent before striking. This objectiveness was unfamiliar territory.

 _Stick to the plan._

Mel hugged her arms to fight the chill wind and, doing her best to mask her expression, responded, "I was here for Henry, just like the rest of them. I made a bargain with the heroes, I was paying my dues. But it seems neither my word nor I am of any value or consideration to them. They show no effort in rescuing me." She sighed, "I no longer have any stakes, I'm just stuck here."

She surprised herself with how real she'd sounded. Convincing even.

"So, you're not playing the game?" He leaned in, a breath's distance away from her. His eyes were so unbelievably green, his face deceitfully angelic. His tone was nothing like before, it sounded open and non-threatening.

For a moment, Mel forgot this was a game of chess. A battle of strategy.

 _He's trying to throw me off._

"No."

The bees started buzzing softly in her stomach again. Melanie surrendered her gaze to his, challenging him to dive into her eyes, to look for a hint of dishonesty. She was afraid. Yes. Nevertheless, she chose to act despite her fear and that made all the difference. His forest green eyes burned into her and she did not waver.

"Interesting," he murmured, so softly that she only just caught it.

Pan pulled away, giving her some breathing space. He walked to the edge of the water, looked up at the sky then down at the stream. His arms hung relaxed at his sides but his hands betrayed unease, they tapped against the outside of his thighs. Uncharacteristically agitated.

 _Everything about him is uncharacteristic tonight,_ she worried.

Melanie counted the seconds in her head. The bees still buzzed in her but they were an afterthought, a backdrop in her mind. She concentrated on the now, she had to – would – convince him of her story. She would be believable. Steeling herself, she edged closer to him one step at a time.

She stood beside him, an arm's length away, before he spoke again. "You're stuck here."

Mel couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement, she didn't know how to respond and, in lack of words, simply nodded. She wasn't sure he saw, though. His eyes were glued on the stream, his face carefully neutral.

"I suppose you want to leave, then." Peter Pan shifted abruptly, pacing a few steps away from the water before turning back. His eyes punctured her soul.

"Yes," she answered, heart hammering. This was the all or nothing. "I want to leave, I want to make a deal with you so I can leave Neverland." Her veins hummed in anticipation, she closed the distance between them. "Would you consider it?"

"What sort of deal?" he whispered. His face was devoid of its usual mischief, his voice lacked its usual threat. His eyes, so used to glimmering with malicious intent, were now two green shields blocking the emotion he hid inside.

Melanie thought – _this is odd, this is unlike him_. He had transformed in front of her very eyes, the initial victory gone from his demeanor. But she ignored the signs, she pushed past the weird to execute the plan. She was so close to getting what she needed – what Rumpel needed from her. Peter Pan's trust was the final ingredient to the spell the Dark One was brewing. If Melanie got him to lower his guard around her, Rumpel would be able to break through and rescue Henry and her brother. All she needed to give him were the exact location of both boys and an unguarded Peter Pan. She could do that.

"I'll tell you anything you need to know about the Savior," she promised. "I'll help you outwit her. In turn, once you get what you want, you'll send me back. How about that?"

The blond got a curious look on his face, his lips twitched in an orchestrated smile that didn't reach his eyes. All the red flags waved furiously in the back of her mind. She ignored them. "You'll tell me anything?" he asked.

"Anything," Mel assured him.

He moved closer to her, so slowly, so subtly, that she only realized he was a breath away when his words warmed her cheeks. "Anything?" he echoed.

Her heart was running marathons and lighter fluid set ablaze her veins. She didn't know why or how but this felt like a different kind of dangerous, this felt like something she'd regret. Melanie lightly nodded, the wind stolen from her lungs and the words stolen from her tongue.

"Who's Benny, lass?"

She stopped breathing. Breathing didn't feel necessary, all of a sudden. Oxygen was of no use to her because she was dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Melanie had died in spirit so many years ago but only now, it seemed, had her body caught up.

 _Benny._ One word that changed everything. One name that meant the world, her world. One person she would die for, if she weren't already dead, if hearing Pan form her brother's name hadn't killed her.

Her mind traveled around the world in a second. It jumped off cliffs, drowned in oceans, lost itself in endless mazes. All in a second. It felt longer to her, it felt like eons. But in truth, it took merely a second for her to die and revive. For her heart to painfully punch death in the face and force air back into her lungs.

Benny. Benny. Benny.

Pan's face was a mixture of barely concealed triumph and disappointment. He was disappointed, she realized, to have broken her so soon.

 _He can see it in my face_ , she realized, she laughed madly to herself. _He can see my split-second terror and he thinks he's won, he thinks it's over. He's disappointed to have beaten me already, so easily._

And Melanie decided – no.

 _No, this is not how this ends. I have not come this far to have victory ripped away from my fingers. To have freedom stolen from my heart_.

And she decided she would not let him win. She decided he wasn't allowed to have this, he wasn't allowed to know or speak or think her brother's name.

She wanted to wipe his memory, blank his mind. Shock him beyond repair.

So, she did the only thing she could think of, the only move left for her on the playing board. She decided she would throw him off in a way he would never expect. Not in a million years.

She kissed him.

* * *

 **A.N: I'm not even going to attempt to excuse my terrible updating schedule, I know it is inexcusable and frustrating. Unfortunately, this is how it'll be until the end of the year - senior year leaves next no room for writing. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, especially since you waited so long for it. Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited and followed this story, you give me strength and keep me motivated to power on! Sorry for the mini-cliffhanger, it was a necessary evil. See you next time...**


	15. The Kiss

**The Kiss**

Weightless.

Their bodies were drawn together with the pull of a magnetic-like force. Pressed incredibly close, her hands cupped the sides of his face pulling him down to her level. Melanie's stomach performed an impressive flip, leaving her whole being light and weightless. In that moment, she believed she could fly. Kissing felt like breathing, an act so vital she wondered how she'd survived so long without performing it.

The boy she held was solid and warm and unyielding. A stab of fear and embarrassment punctured her heart. However, when she started to pull her hands away his own shot up to hold her elbows in place, tugging her closer. He gave in to the kiss, lips parting. Her stomach soared again.

Weightless.

Her thoughts were crashing discordantly in her skull. They were produced and destroyed so quickly there was no time to think them. She could not remember – not her name or where she was or her purpose – she could only feel. Passion? Anger? She was definitely feeling anger and outrage and – and fear too. But also, release and breaking and something _electric_.

Melanie was lost. Soaring. Falling. This kiss – it turned her brain off and her heart on.

With her eyes shut tight against the world, every touch and sound were augmented by her senses. The pressure of his body, the taste of his lips, the involuntary noise that escaped his throat. His fingers dug into her arms – to pull her close or shove her away she'd never know because that sensation unlocked the reasonable, logical side of her brain and reminded her just whom she was kissing.

Her eyes flew open in shock and her hands moved to his shoulders to push him away. That was when she realized they were flying. Hovering really, if she were being technical, about three feet off the ground. She held on to him in a moment of panic, afraid of falling. She felt unrooted, feet dangling freely in the air, and vulnerable.

Melanie's eyes widened and her eyebrows jumped into her hairline. Her lack of command of the situation frightened her more than anything. She was at the mercy of… her gaze snapped back up to green eyes and an unguarded, angelic face. The face of the enemy. The face of a monster.

The face she'd kissed.

 _In anger,_ her logical brain reminded her, _to prove a point! To distract him from Benny._

Her emotional brain merely nodded an absent acknowledgment. It wasn't really paying attention to anything but his open, vulnerable eyes and his parted lips and the evidence of her fingers in his hair-

 _Oh my god, when did I touch his hair?_

Involuntarily, she scanned his features for any sign that would help her read his thoughts on this – this situation. It was futile, of course. She'd never been any good at reading him before and now, with her heart fighting to leave her chest, her concentration was not at its finest.

He still held her by the elbows, she belatedly noticed. That's why she was flyi- hovering. He – Peter Pan – had lifted them both off the ground when she'd…

 _Kissed. We kissed._

He registered the shock in her face and his semblance instantly turned to stone. Gone was the angelic impression and the confusion in his eyes. As soon as her feet touched the ground, he pulled away as if her skin had burned him. His posture was armored, jaw locked and frame terse. His gaze never left her, though. It unsettled her bones.

And lit _everything_ on fire.

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. No words. She couldn't remember the plan - the plan she'd worked so hard on - she couldn't remember why kissing him had seemed like a decent idea or what she hoped to come of it.

 _You've startled him, that's for sure._

They stared at one another, her mouth gaping for words, his closed like a tomb. Then he disappeared in a puff of smokey-magic and Melanie stayed staring at the empty space he left.

* * *

 _Benny had noticed the change._

 _Not just the obvious, physical change. Anyone that had known her before would have noticed that her long bouncy curls were gone. No, her brother noticed the other change. The one in her soul. The death of both her parents had taken its toll on her emotionally. Living with their uncle was its own special kind of torture. But having her hair chopped off like it didn't even belong to her… it was soul-crushing._

 _Her heavy locks had been the only constant in her life. Everything had been ripped away from her at some point – her parents, her home, her childhood. But her hair – her magic – had_ always _been hers. Even when she didn't want it, even when she'd wished it away like it was a terrible curse. Even when she feared for her safety and her freedom, that someone might discover it and exploit her._

 _Now that it was gone… well, it seemed the fates were laughing cruelly at her misery._

 _Benny detected this change in her attitude, in her motivation. She could see how it affected him to have her grieving all the time, moping and hurting in silence. She could see the sliver of happiness and hope, which for some miracle he'd managed to hold on to, drain out him as he watched her suffer. And it pained her, pained her beyond words to know that she was inflicting this misery upon him. But it couldn't be helped. She had no strength to pretend around him and no real hope to cling on to._

 _Melanie could feel the empty space inside her that her magic occupied. Ever since that day, she'd felt hollow and dry. She knew, without having to test it, that her powers were gone. The knowledge left her off-balance, distracted and dazed. She would lose herself thinking about nothing and everything, many times she had stopped mid-chores and been scolded and beat by her uncle._

 _She didn't care. She couldn't feel a thing._

 _She saw her brother less and less. He pulled away or maybe she distanced herself too often. She felt alone, he probably did too, and the worst part was – she didn't know how to make it better. Or if it could be fixed at all._

" _Wake up, child." The cook's warm voice brought her attention back to the present._

 _The stifling kitchen and the sounds of boiling water surrounded her. Mel looked down at the knife in her hand, she had been chopping onions. She gripped it so forcefully her knuckles turned white._

" _It'll be alright, miss," said the old lady, stirring the soup. "It'll grow back."_

 _The cook smiled at her, Melanie didn't smile back._

" _Where's_ that boy _?" the gruff, demanding tone of her uncle's voice cut through the clatter in the kitchen._

 _Melanie knew he meant Benny, he never addressed them by name only_ that boy _and_ that girl _. She gritted her teeth, releasing the knife before her self-control abandoned her._

" _He's doing his chores, sir. Cleaning the windows."_

" _Don't lie to me girl," he growled. His beady eyes shone with annoyance and arrogance. She wished to poke them out. "He's not in the house. Where did he go?"_

 _Shock. Two, three seconds. Melanie's breathing was uneven, her hands – hidden behind her back – trembled slightly. "What do you mean? He is in this house," she paused, swallowed, "I saw him cleaning the windows this morning. You must be mistaken."_

 _An impatient noise escaped the man's throat. "I am not mistaken, girl. I thought I made myself clear when I took you both in that this was not a hotel. You pull your weight around here and you follow my rules! You tell that little brat when he gets back here that one more toe out of line and he can pack up his rags."_

 _Benny had left? Where could he have gone? Why would he leave?_

You know why _, her mind hissed cruelly._

 _My fault. My fault. My fault._

" _Understood, girl?!"_

* * *

She lay in her cot, blanket twisted to a knot by her feet, while the birds announced the coming of morning. She got no sleep. Her eyes were dry from staring at the ceiling all night, her heart heavy from worry and her lips… her lips still tingled. Despite her best efforts to ignore it, that was all she could think about.

 _I kissed Peter Pan. Me. I did it. I kissed him._

 _Stop! Stop thinking about it!_

Was she mad? Angry at herself, perhaps? Disappointed to see her plan fall through so quickly?

Worried. She was worried about Benny, for sure.

 _How does Pan know about him? What is happening to my brother now? Is he locked away? Will they threaten him to get me to cooperate? Or is he just emotional leverage? Does he know I'm here now?_

Thousands of painful, unwanted questions pounded her brain. She sighed, dragging a hand down her face. She touched her lips and was jolted back to the memory of last night. Of being lifted off the ground, of being held by him…

 _No, stop! This is unacceptable, you will not think about that!_

He was the enemy. The devil. He had kidnapped countless young boys and brainwashed and hurt them. He had promised them home and turned them into soldiers instead. He was threatening Henry. He had taken Benny from her. Peter Pan was a lying, evil, scheming bastard. He was power-hungry. He was ruthless.

The only _logical_ reason for her to be thinking about this at all was to pick up the pieces of her plan. She was not giving up, no matter what setbacks the events of last night caused. She had Rumpel waiting for her instructions just outside the perimeters of this camp, all she needed was to give him Henry's location and her brother's, once she found him.

 _That is if Pan doesn't have him under lockdown yet._

She shushed the annoying, insecure voice in her head. There was no reason to believe Benny was under threat yet. Melanie would have received a more direct message or demand, if that were the case. Pan did nothing without purpose, it did him no good to harm her brother in secret. If he did it, he would make sure she was watching.

Yes, she was certain the situation was still salvageable.

The pecking on her window sent her heart running before she realized it was only Rumpel's stupid messenger bird. Groaning she swung both legs out bed, massaged her temples and wobbled over to open the latch.

 _What the hell does he want now?_

They had agreed she would message him first, once all the details had been arranged. It was too risky having the bird going back and forth all the time with unimportant papers. It could raise unwanted attention. For Rumpel to forgo his own warning and send her this bird… something had changed, something was wrong.

Melanie nearly tore the paper in her haste to unfasten it from the creature's leg. With shaky hands, she opened it and scanned the words in a rush. She had to read it five times before the message – and all it entailed – sunk in.

 _Congratulations miss,_

 _You exceeded my expectations. Last night, for a brief window of time, the protective wards were completely disabled. Had you given me Henry's position, I would have freed him already._

She detected a tinge of annoyance.

 _I await the extraction details for my grandson and your brother as well as yourself. I am a man of my word, reproduce the results of last night and I will be able to finish what we came here to do._

 _Do not dally._

Her eyes lingered on the words "reproduce the results of last night".

Her head and heart beat as one, drowning out the chirping of birds and the morning light pouring in through the open window. Dread settled over her like a blanket and butterflies fluttered furiously in her stomach.

The wards were completely down. Last night.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Went her heart.

 _It's not possible,_ she reasoned _, for the kiss-_

She interrupted the thought before it could go further. Because she already knew how it ended. Because it was true. It was the only explanation, no matter how much she wished it was not. The wards went down because Pan got distracted, because she'd surprised him.

 _He kissed you back,_ said the frustrating, quiet, firm voice in her head.

 _That means nothing,_ she told it. _All that matters is it worked, it wasn't for nothing. I can use this to get Benny out._

 _Yes,_ the voice replied _, but it also means you have to kiss him again._

She had nothing to say to it in return.

* * *

 **A.N: So, there you go! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and it met all your expectations. All feedback is encouraged (as long as it is polite) and reading your reviews really motivates me to keep writing! This was difficult to write, I've never ever written a kissing scene before (shocker) so if you enjoyed it let me know ; )**

 **Also, the last chapter was updated, so if you didn't check that out maybe you'd like to do that now? Up to you!**


	16. The Prisoner

**The Prisoner**

" _Where have you been?!"_

" _Don't bother, Mel."_

" _You can't leave like this, Ben. Uncle was furious, he threatened to kick you out."_

" _Good."_

" _What? No, not good. What's up with you? Where were you all day?"_

"…"

" _You can't give me the silent treatment, I'm your big sister!"_

"…"

" _You can't do whatever you want, Ben. You can't-"_

" _Don't. You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do anymore. You're not my mother!"_

"…"

* * *

He waited by the cave's entrance for the Shadow to arrive, a million unwanted thoughts blossoming in the back of his mind. Thoughts of _her_ , her determined eyes, her furrowed brow, her hands in tight fists when she was thinking hard, her hands in his hair when she'd kissed him…

 _Stop,_ he ordered himself as images and sounds rained down of a memory too sweet and painful to revisit, but one his torturous mind delivered him all the same.

It had been the same ever since the kiss. No matter the effort he made to extinguish it, the moment played over and over in his mind's eye, spreading like wildfire until it consumed his whole attention. The seconds before, he remembered with astounding clarity – the battle of emotions in her eyes, the tight set of her mouth, her eyebrows pulled together in thought. The seconds after too – her mouth hanging slightly open, her forehead relieved of the lines of stress that usually decorated it, the bliss mingling with shock in her expression.

But the moment of the kiss… that was always a blur.

His mind had fogged the details and all that remained was the feeling. Of her pulling down his face with determination but gentleness. Of the warm touch of her lips pressing against his own. Of how his mind completely shut out anything that wasn't _her_ for those precious seconds. Of, without even sensing it, being lifted off the ground by the emotion in the pit of his stomach.

 _Happy thoughts can make you fly._

 _Nonsense!_

It was nothing. She was nothing.

He was Peter Pan, master of Neverland, powerful and clever beyond match. He was above happy and care and kindness. He was above distracting feelings and human entanglements. The Shadow had showed him the way, the Shadow had taught him what it meant – what it took – to be a ruler, to wield magic. And he'd loved it, he'd reveled in power. It was what he wanted.

 _What I want,_ he reminded himself.

Neverland had no space for grown-ups or their stupid feelings. Peter was definitely not subject to them.

 _It was just the moment,_ he reasoned _, the surprise. A biological response to closeness, nothing to waste worry on._

The reminder of closeness brought the onslaught of sensations again. Her scent of warm vanilla and camp-fires teased his imagination and his eyes closed in an involuntary and useless attempt to hinder the reminiscence.

"You are distracted, master."

His eyes snapped open at the invasive interruption of the Shadow. Peter Pan was used to its tricks and methods – how it would speak directly into your mind as if its voice belonged to your own thoughts, how it could morph to please your eyes with whatever vision you desired most. But being accustomed didn't mean he appreciated the intrusion, specially not now with all the confusion brewing in his being that he could not control.

"I am fine," he told the creature before him.

The Shadow's eerie glowing eyes regarded him, the sense of its magic distinctly off-putting and malicious. "Have you obtained the trust of the Truest Believer yet?"

"No, Henry doesn't trust anyone on camp. He's too bright and opinionated for his own good."

A low, unhuman growl came from the dark creature. "We need the heart, master, or centuries of planning will all have been in vain. There is a deadline approaching, something must be done quickly."

"We have the boy," Peter said, "I can take his heart in a blink. He poses no challenge to me. Why must this be a problem?"

"Because," the Shadow rumbled, its presence growing uncomfortably pressing, "the heart must be freely given or it is worth nothing! The spell won't work if you rip it out of the boy, he has to give you his trust along with his heart."

Peter Pan bristled at its tone and hardened his expression, he disliked being told off like some lowly subordinate. He was in charge here and the Shadow would do well to remember its duty was to serve not command.

"I _will_ get his heart. I _will_ perform the spell. I _will_ be the most powerful magic-wielder in all realms." He took a slow, deliberate step toward the creature. "Understood?"

Despite not having a face, the Shadow seemed to deliver a pleased smile. Its voice was soft, seductive and subdued, as convincing as ever. "Of course, master. I never doubt you. May I suggest we bring in the girl to speak to him? I'm certain she will be an excellent persuader."

"The girl?" Peter's question came out half choked.

 _Does it know? How could it already know? Why would it want-_

"Yes, the little blonde prisoner." The Shadow said, amused. "She finally is of use to us."

 _Oh,_ he sighed relief _, thank god._

"Yes," he painted a smile into his tone, "the boy is doomed to fall for her charms."

As the Shadow disappeared into the cave, Peter Pan allowed his mask to fall. He couldn't let it discover what had happened last night. The Shadow was objective and ruthless, both traits he greatly admired but now feared. It would see Melanie as a threat to their goal and it would have no problem eliminating her.

 _Maybe that's good, maybe you need a clearer perspective._

His heart clenched in a way long forgotten by him, a way of a life before this island.

 _No, that doesn't need to happen. I can do what needs to be done without involving her._

 _Why does it matter? You don't care about her. The kiss means nothing to you. She means nothing. Remember?_

He rubbed his aching temples forcefully. _She can stay out of it. I can do what needs to be done._

He hoped he was right.

* * *

Participating in the common chores was a welcome reprieve from the chorus of incessant questions barreling her brain. Of course, the boys had stared at her strangely when she had asked to help with something, but they moved on quickly after she started working and got back to their own duties, which was great, really. When she was chopping up firewood she didn't have time to ponder her morals or her feelings, the burning in her strained muscles and the sweat running down her back occupied her plenty.

Besides, maybe by engaging more actively in the camp's activities Melanie might garner the trust of the older lost boys – the ones more loyal to Pan. With them to vouch for her, she stood a better chance of rectifying last night's mistakes and convincing him to take her as an ally.

She poured all her energy on the plan. It was easier than thinking about why she kissed him or if Benny was already suffering. Those questions didn't have clear, objective answers. Those questions would take her nowhere. The plan, on the other hand, would.

 _Focus. Win their trust. Find Benny's location. Report to Rumpel._

 _And kiss Pan again,_ piped the infuriating quiet voice.

"Melanie?"

She was grateful for the familiar voice that pulled her reverie. She lowered the axe, her muscles sighing in relief, and turned to search for the boy that called her. Liam's fiery head bobbed through the sea of bustling bodies as he made for her. Melanie couldn't help the smile that stole her face, she really did love that kid.

"I'm here," she called back, leaning on a nearby trunk.

His small face was colored from strain, he'd probably run to get to her, and his hair stuck in strands on his forehead. He put his hands on his knees as he fought for breath, a sight so silly and normal-like that it elicited amused laughter from the girl.

"What's up, Liam? What's so important you gave up your lungs for it?"

"I -wheeze- I came as soon as -wheeze- I found out." He panted, looking up at her from underneath his sticky hair.

"What, Liam? What did you find out?" Wariness seized her bones.

"That boy," he tried to lower his voice so the others wouldn't hear them, but it came out raspy and Melanie herself almost couldn't make it out, "Henry, Pan sent him to see someone today. Someone inside camp. I thought you'd want to know. The other boys mentioned she was a prisoner here too, she's at south wing."

A million things burst into her head at once. _There's another prisoner – another girl – here in camp? And Pan_ wants _Henry to meet her? To talk to her?_

All she could come up with was that this was _not_ good. Melanie couldn't risk Henry getting confused or brainwashed, she'd been lucky so far because Pan's rhetoric hadn't struck a chord with the boy. But after last night… Pan must be desperate to regain control. She wasn't sure he knew about the wards failing, but if he did and this was a renewed, forceful attempt to sway Henry – she _could not_ risk it.

"Show me," she blurted, adrenaline already filling her veins, "show me where she is, Liam."

* * *

 _Things were impossibly worse than before._

 _Her brother had pulled away completely. He wouldn't talk to her anymore, wouldn't tell her where he went or who he saw or how he was feeling. She covered for him as best she could lest her uncle find out and expulse him. But it hurt that he didn't trust her, even if she didn't blame him for pushing her away._

 _All of it was her fault. She held that knowledge in the guiltiest, darkest corner of her heart. She had been the undoing of her family. She had called the physician naively instead of trying to heal her mother first. She had brought her brother to their uncle's home against her better judgement. She had been distracted enough to call attention to herself and got her hair cut. She had been selfish and distanced herself to grieve. She had left him all alone. So, he got used to it._

 _Benny was incredibly grown-up for his age, frown-lines marked his forehead and his eyes were aged from pain. She watched him toss and turn in his sleep, the only light in the room a flickering candle. Her own bed felt empty and cold in spite of the blankets draped over her. Normally, she and Ben would lay together to share warmth and comfort during the harsh winters._

Normally.

 _Oh, how she despised that word, now._

 _Weariness took over and closed her eyes, sending her into an uneasy rest. The nightmares were old companions, she expected them and did not resist when they dragged her down. The pounding of rain on the bedroom window and the shrieking of the wind played as a background symphony, mingling reality with dream and drawing a blurry line between both._

 _When the window was opened, welcoming in the torrent that ravaged the world outside, Melanie almost didn't wake up. Her nightmares were potent and all-consuming, she could scream for hours and not regain enough consciousness to wake herself alone, but tonight was different. The rain did not wake her nor did the chill bite of winter, it was the distinctly odd sense of something other-worldly that did._

 _Her lids were heavy as she lifted her head off the pillow, eyes unknowingly searching for something her gut told her was there. She saw the open window first, then the wet floorboards. Her brow furrowed in confusion before realization dawned on her and she swiveled to face her brother's bed. Benny stood precariously on the springy mattress, his little boyish face filled with unabashed amusement as he regarded the creature standing in front of him. Laughter escaped his lips as terror pummeled Melanie's ribcage._

 _A shadow._

 _Glowing unhuman eyes stared hungrily at her brother, the being's smoky form pulsed with malicious intent. She didn't have time for questions, time to wonder what that thing was or why it was there. She just knew she had to save Benny. So, she leapt._

 _But she was too late._

 _The shadow took her brother's outstretched hand and flew out of the window. Melanie's fingers barely grazed Ben's feet and he was gone. She half-crawled, half-ran to the window, feet slipping on the rain-soaked floor, nightgown drenched as if she'd just come out of the ocean. The storm outside gave no relief, the wind blew rain into her eyes and the darkness of the clouds obstructed any light that might've helped her see where the creature had gone._

 _Nothing. There was nothing but darkness left._

 _She was crying, she noticed belatedly, had been for some time now, actually. But the tears and the rain lost themselves on her cheeks until they were indistinguishable, so she did not understand part of the wetness was her doing. The wind whipped her hair violently until some of it stuck to her face. All she could think was – my fault, my fault, my fault._

 _Benny had left because of her._

 _Her family was broken because of her._

 _She couldn't even keep the promise she'd made her mother on her deathbed._

 _Melanie's eyes closed against the harsh, battering shower._

 _What now?_

* * *

Sneaking off with Liam turned out relatively uneventful. The guards barely spared her a second glance as they made their way down leaf-covered paths and many, in fact, diverted their gaze in a frightened manner.

 _Odd,_ she thought.

She had no time to overthink this, though. Her hands were sweaty and her legs bouncy because of the adrenaline in her system. _Another prisoner. Another girl._ Her mind beat this information over and over. She wasn't alone, there was another just like her here, trapped in this camp. _An ally, perhaps?_

They took an unexpected turn as Liam worked to avoid them being noticed by some older guards. This part of camp was wilder, less evidence of occupation marked the space, the trees were closer together and bushes covered nearly all of the ground. It was harder to move here and the extra attention necessary not to trip distracted Melanie until Liam touched her arm. She looked up at him only to find him staring ahead. Mimicking him, she turned and gaped. There was a small treehouse, not unlike her own, resting leisurely on a large old oak tree, its windows open revealing fluttering lace curtains. The smell of sweet tea and crumpets wafted from inside.

 _Prisoner? With this type of treatment?_

Liam ducked under the undergrowth and gestured for Melanie to do the same, so she did. She watched the movement inside the room from behind leaves, crouching in an uncomfortable position. She didn't know what she was expecting to find here, but certainly not this. Voices carried down from the treehouse, soft and calm. Melanie's heart pounded. She had to get a closer look, see if Henry was still in there and try to understand what they were talking about. She made to stand up when Liam's small hand tugged her down by the wrist, his eyes wide and staring.

"Look," he breathed, "someone's coming out."

He was right, the quaint door was pulled open and bodies moved outside. Melanie squinted, trying to make out the people. One was a girl of roughly her age with long, soft golden hair flowing down her back. She wore a baby blue dress that had a distinct antique-vibe that teased Mel's memory like this was someone she should know. The other was not, to Melanie's disappointment, Henry. It was just a small guard. Sighing in frustration, she was just about to turn back and leave when her legs froze.

 _Something, something about that boy…_

She leaned further, straining her neck to see. Blood rushed in her ears blocking the outside world and she stopped breathing because… because-

The girl stooped to the little boy's level and enveloped him in a warm embrace which he heartily returned. His smile was all Mel needed to confirm her suspicions, she would know that smile anywhere. For the first time since arriving on the island, Melanie felt all the fight drain out of her body. She was a limp rag-doll, unable to stand on her own, unable to move.

The blonde ruffled the boy's hair and walked back inside. He climbed down the rope ladder and made for the post by the trunk of the tree, standing guard like a good little-soldier.

"Mel, we should go now." She heard Liam through an ear full of cotton, only half-aware of what he said.

After all these years, she'd found him – her little Benny.

Only, he seemed to have found a replacement for her already.

* * *

 **A.N: A thousand and one thanks to all who have been writing reviews, following and favoriting this story. Your support is what drives me to keep doing this! I hope this installment was to your liking, we finally found Benny! I believe the story will pick up pace from here, we've reached the half-way point, so if you want to leave your theories and hopes for how it will continue, please do!**


	17. The Healer

The Healer

If not for Liam, Melanie would have remained in her crouched position for centuries to come. She would have been slowly enveloped by the vegetation, vines and thorns adorning her limbs, until she grew roots of her own. She would have stayed there, staring helplessly at the boy – the boy…

 _Benny._

His name was like an old melody her brain had rediscovered and refused to let go. It bounced off the walls of her mind over and over and over-

"Be careful," Liam pleaded, halting and pushing her behind a large trunk. A patrol of older lost boys marched past them on the main path, their bitter scowls on proud display to frighten the younglings who crossed them. "You're too distracted. We can't make our way back like this."

Melanie allowed his voice to pull her from her dazed state. She sunk to the ground, back against the tree, and watched as he followed her, taking her hands as he did so. Her breathing was misleadingly calm as was her expression, but her traitorous heart ratted her out in its loud music. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His expression was thoughtful and worried as he regarded her. "You should never apologize for your feelings."

Melanie looked up, startled at the profound wisdom and serenity of his statement. His young face betrayed nothing of age. His eyes were a different matter. The depth of them silenced the blabber of thoughts in her mind and gave her a new question. She'd been around him for so long, grown so attached to him, and yet she had never asked much of his past.

Curiosity and boldness made use of the adrenaline already rushing in her system and took control of her voice. "How old are you?"

He seemed surprised by the question first, but soon a small smile played on his lips and amused lines appeared in the corner of his eyes. "I'm twelve."

"How long have you been twelve, Liam?"

"Oh," he gave a small chuckle, "quite long." He tilted his head in thought, looking up at the canopy as he continued, "Time is funny here on the island."

She followed his gaze and saw two gray birds in flight, the way they circled each other resembled a dance. She let out a breath, rubbing the back of her neck, and sized up the boy in front of her. She trusted him, but how far was she willing to extend that trust?

"You – you seem to know a lot about magic," she ventured, tucking lock behind her ear. His gaze flitted back to her. "When I was – you know – freaking out, you helped me. You said things about magic and control – things that were absolutely on point, things a magic-wielder would know."

He smiled at her, features relaxed, but she saw the weight of this new topic on the sadness in his eyes. If she looked hard enough, she could peel away the layers of 'boy' to see the years Neverland had kept from his face. Melanie's hands clasped nervously in her lap, waiting for his response.

"I don't have magic, but I was friends with someone, a long time ago, who had it. They struggled too, like you did that day. It was a challenge to bear the responsibility that comes with that sort of power, they suffered a lot. I decided I didn't want them to, so I tried to learn how to help. How to soothe."

"Did you?" she asked, the words escaping her before she could help it, the need to know clawing at her heart. "Did you help them?"

Liam's face fell serious in a way that reminded her too much of her brother's moments of ageless sobriety. "By the time I did, it was too late. What I know is because of the mistakes I made with them."

A contemplative silence hung about them, the birds continued their chirping and the wind rustled the leaves above but a bubble of peace kept them apart from it all. Finally, Mel took his hands, gently, and brought them to settle over her heart. "Thank you for telling me – for trusting and helping me. I couldn't have done anything without you."

The ginger squeezed her hands, his eyes too knowing for the child's face that accompanied them. "Will you tell me then? About the boy?"

Melanie swallowed her doubts and fears, she crushed the restlessness and the uncertainty inside her. Benny was alive. This was the miracle she had prayed for all along, the sign that her sacrifices on this island were not in vain. And he was free, Pan hadn't gotten to him yet. All her luck had been pooled into this one amazing miracle.

 _But that girl – hugging him –_

 _Stop, Melanie. You're not allowed to do that._

She should be glad that he found a friend, someone nice who cared about him and looked out for him for all the years she could not. She should be kissing the girl's feet and weeping tears of joy. Benny had found someone to love him – she knew from his smile that they loved each other – and that meant that he had not grown bitter or resentful as the years dragged by. It shouldn't matter that someone else had played her role for so long, that someone had won the affection reserved for her in his heart. But it did and it hurt.

 _How do I face him? How do I show up after centuries and expect him to love me the same?_

And suddenly, a deeper fear than ever before stormed her veins because – _what if he doesn't want to leave with me? What if he hates me still?_

"It's okay," Liam whispered, wiping the tears that had streaked silently down her cheeks. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"No," she said and, though her voice wobbled from emotion, her resolve cemented. "I do want to tell you. I trust you with everything."

 _I love you with everything,_ she didn't say.

Because it sounded wrong. Because it sounded like betraying her brother.

But it was not, she realized. The affection she held for Liam was the affection Benny held for the girl. They'd both needed anchors, they'd both formed new bonds. And that didn't detract from the love they had for each other – at least, it didn't need to. In that moment, she felt untainted happiness that her brother had found someone that protected him the way she protected Liam because it meant someone had kept him safe. And that was all she really cared about.

So, she told the redhead everything. The whole story. His eyes widened and he gasped at parts, he listened like he did to all the other tales she had woven since she'd gotten here, like it meant something to him. Like it spoke to his heart.

It warmed her insides.

"What do we do now? You have both locations, right?"

She nodded.

"So, now you need Pan." Seeing the unease in her expression he set to pat her shoulder in kind affection. "Hey, no problem. It's just an act, right?"

"Right," she cleared her throat.

"So, you give Rumpel the info, we lure Pan to you and bam- you're free! But how do we lure him? That's the question…"

"Liam, about being free and all-"

"We'll be alright," he smiled softly, and the fact that he knew her worries without her voicing them made her heart clench. "We've survived Pan's rage before, we'll do it again."

"I wish there was a way-"

"Careful," he said, lifting himself off the ground and offering her a hand. She took it. "Wishes have a twisted way of coming true." Though his words were ominous his expression was as light-hearted as ever.

"I know how to lure Pan," she admitted, "but I need you to do something for me."

"At your service, ma'am." He mock saluted her.

"I need you to rally the biggest crowd you can for story-telling, tonight."

The boy gave her dashing, impish grin. "What will we be hearing tonight, Mother?"

"A heartbreaking tale," she promised, "of pirates and fairies and flying. The tale of a brave girl who tries to rescue her brothers from a charming and mischievous boy, of a girl that learns to fly and swordfight, a girl who defeats all odds."

 _This is for you - my thank you, for all you did for Benny._

"Tonight, I'm telling Wendy's story."

* * *

A chill wind raced through the clearing, fought off by the central campfire and the woolen coats and cloaks that everyone here wore. Melanie clasped her hands tightly in her lap, trying to protect them from the cold. She knew the weather was tied to _him_ , knew the chill meant he was unhappy.

 _Good_ , she thought. _If it will bring him to berate me, it's worth it._

The crowd, completely insensible to anything but her voice, was enthralled by the tale she told, hanging onto her every word, reacting to the sad and the funny parts. Her characters were always lovable but tonight they were specially captivating. Mel knew they heard themselves in the tale, identified with the boys she spoke of, even if she had not named them 'lost boys' for the sake of discretion. They were delighted to hear about Wendy and her journey and the terrible pirates.

 _Is this cheating,_ she wondered. After all, she hadn't written the story herself, rather she'd borrowed and altered one she already knew. One she had learned during the curse, through books and movies. Not long after sitting with Liam, she had matched the identity of the blonde prisoner with one of a dear character from that story.

 _A girl. Blonde. Peter Pan. Neverland._

Melanie had spent enough time in Storybrooke to know about fairytales and, though they were not always accurate, they captured the essence of many of the people she'd met in town. Peter Pan's tale was wildly notorious and, though she wasn't sure how much of it was real, Melanie knew it would be enough to garner attention. When she was under the curse, she had been somewhat obsessed with his story, she could tell it back-to-front and in her sleep. Maybe because her some part of her mind remembered Benny and the Shadow. Maybe because it was simply one of the most adventurous and thrilling tales in the existence.

"- and Wendy brandished the sword valiantly, looking the fierce pirate in the eye before parrying his strike and plunging-"

The words rolled seamlessly off her tongue and she couldn't help the sparkle in her voice as she watched the kids. When she told them stories, they looked truly like children – enchanted and carefree. She let her gaze roam the large group sitting before her, the older guards hanging in the outskirts of the clearing – too proud to admit to listening in – and rested on a pair of emerald green eyes.

Pan.

The corner of her lips tugged up, satisfied. She knew it would work, he could not resist hearing her narrate his tale. He was too proud and arrogant for his own good. Melanie had counted on it to lure him to her. The smug set of his shoulders and the controlled, bored look on his face meant to throw her off, but she wasn't falling for it. She had seen his mask slip, seen, if only briefly, what lay underneath. But she could not think of those unguarded eyes without the memory of the kiss resurfacing. Involuntarily, the heat of a blush climbed her neck and graced her cheeks. She pushed on with the story, determined not to let emotion cloud her voice.

She could feel his gaze like soft fingers grazing her skin but she pretended not to, knowing her disregard would irk him. She willed an air of collectedness to wash over her, keeping to her story pace and not allowing him to catch her eye.

She was telling his story – the boy who refused to grow up, the 'happy thoughts can make you fly' propaganda, the adventure and pirates and all it entailed. But she refused to name him in it, refused to declare him the protagonist of his own tale. She, instead, called Wendy to the spotlight, narrating her point of view and her backstory, giving her the emotional development and arc she deserved. Peter Pan was on the sidelines, always. Melanie made him blend in with the background, made the kids forget he was powerful at all, so that all the audience cared about was if Wendy was going to save the day.

And she did, of course, to the delight of the lost boys.

 _Most of them don't even know Wendy is here,_ the quiet voice in her head lamented. _If they found out now, they would worship her. I bet she'd have as powerful a pull on them as Pan._

The lost boys scrambled for bed as she announced, _'the end,'_ and rose swiftly to her feet. She sought out the blond devil's tall, graceful form between the tree trunks where she saw him last and tried her best to mask her surprise at his sudden disappearance. _Gone._

Little Nate was the last of the stragglers, he gave her quick hug and then scuttled off, leaving her alone in the middle of the clearing.

 _Great, you lost him!_

She closed her eyes, a frustrated snort disrupting her cool façade. _Now what, Melanie? Now what?_

"Are you quite alright? You seem a bit off, lass."

Melanie willed her eyes to open slowly, purposefully. She _was_ in control, she would make him see that. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you."

His lean frame towered over her, allowing him to gaze down his nose superiorly. Next to Peter Pan, she was slight and fragile. His presence was demanding, forceful and impish. But, despite her looks, Melanie had steel in her bones, steel she sometimes forgot she possessed. She took a brave step closer to him, crossing her arms as if to shoulder off the chill, though she was already numbed to it.

"You, on the other hand, do not look fine." His jaw tensed and a tight smile stretched across his features. A purple bruise graced one of his temples and a trickle of dry blood painted the corner of his mouth, though Melanie could swear she had not seen it on him at the time of her storytelling. Then again, she had averted her eyes rather quickly, it was possible she had missed it. "Who punched you?"

"Why did you tell Wendy's story?"

Mel dropped her hand, which had been absently straying to touch his bruise. Her eyes snapped back to his and she remembered her place – her duty – for tonight. Rumpel was on standby, waiting for the opportunity she _had_ to give him. Liam had secured that Benny would be guarding Wendy right now. And she knew Henry was in his quarters whose location she had passed on to the Dark One. All that remained was ensuring the window of opportunity.

 _Get his guard down._

"It's one of my favorites, I thought I'd share it with the boys."

If not for nervous tick underneath his right eye, his face held the illusion of a placating smile. " _How_ do you know her story?"

"Everyone knows it, back home. Very popular with the kids. You show up in it too, did you notice?"

He didn't take the bait. "You've seen her." It wasn't a question. His gaze bore deep into her, and she could almost see him think behind those green eyes, pulling together information to puzzle her out. "But," he rolled his eyes, shaking his head, "you have not talked to her."

Melanie tilted her head, looking up at him through slightly furrowed brows. "What makes you so sure?"

"If you'd talked to her, you wouldn't have prattled on all night about her greatness." He smirked as if she'd given him the answer he wanted to hear. An infuriating, stomach flipping smirk.

She hated it.

"Wendy _is_ great," she said, jaw tensing. For a moment, she forgot she was supposed to be winning him over, not pissing him off. "Her trials showed how amazing and dedicated she is, her perseverance is commendable, and her cleverness and wit are her by far her grandest attributes. She's all one could hope to be."

His shoulders shook in a silent chuckle and his eyes darted quickly from her face to hide the amusement in them. He was… laughing at her.

 _How dare he?!_

"She is," Melanie said through gritted teeth.

"I don't know where you've been getting your stories, lass," he smiled, "but the version you told tonight – it's not very close to the true character. Wendy," he breathed by her ear, raising the hairs on her neck, "is bent to my will, she is my prisoner."

"So am I," Mel countered, "but we both know that only encourages my cleverness."

"Indeed." His expression flashed with what looked like respect and a bit of admiration, but it was wiped clean so quickly she believed she'd imagined it.

She was taken by surprise at his… ease around her. Didn't he feel awkward about the kiss? Did he remember it all? The situation felt surreal, nothing at all like she'd imagined. He was unaffected by her. The thought was so startling that when his name slipped through her lips it was because she was distracted, off-game.

"Peter."

The fact that it sounded far too breathy for her liking did not help the pounding in her ribcage.

The name was like a key, the password she'd been missing all along, because – at the moment it left her mouth – his armor unraveled. His lips parted without him meaning to and his frame swayed toward her, if only a fraction of an inch. Suddenly, there was a star lodged in her throat, blocking her ability to breath and igniting her insides.

She hid her nervous fingers behind her back, and forced herself to focus. _Focus, Melanie._ She licked her lips, preparing to push through with the words in her head. His eyes flitted quickly to her mouth before returning to stare into her own.

Her heart stuttered.

"I- I wanted to ask you about our deal. I mean- when can I start helping?"

His eyebrows knitted together as his eyes cast their starry semblance. "Deal?"

"To let me work for you? So, in return, you get me off Neverland?" She shook her head, confused. "We discussed it last night, you don't remember?"

"Yes, I remember," he snapped, cool precision in his gaze. The harshness returned to his posture, defensive once again, his handsome features twisted painfully in a scowl. "I also remember I made no such promise, nor will I."

"What," she sputtered. "Why not?!"

"If you're so damned set on leaving," he sneered cruelly, "- leave. I don't need allies, you have nothing useful to me."

"Yes, I do! I have knowledge that could end the Savior in a heartbeat," Melanie argued, tight fists shaking slightly at her sides. "I've been by her side, I know her weaknesses and the weaknesses of everyone in her group. With me, you can finish this far quicker. I can help you and you can help me."

"I already possess all the blackmail information I need so, do yourself a favor, use your magic and go," Peter said, eyes flashing. "I won't stop you."

Melanie stomped her foot in frustration. She was fed up, tired of coming so close only to have the rug pulled from under her, tired of predicting him and failing, tired of drafting and perfecting so many plans and having them crumpled by this uncooperative ass.

"I can't," she screamed, no longer caring to hold onto her composure, no longer worrying someone might overhear. She was so, so close to getting Benny _out_. All she needed was for Peter Pan to trust her, to let her in. "I can't use my magic to get myself off this goddamned island! You wanna know why?"

She didn't wait for his response, didn't wait for the shock to bleed out of his face so he could replace it with more of that infuriating, calculated calmness. She took advantage of his inertia and clutched onto the sides of his face, one thumb brushing his purpled skin, the other the blood on the side of his mouth. "Because this is all my magic can do."

Before he could react, she was humming and a soft glow ran down the tips of her short hair and into her fingertips, seeping into his skin. And then she opened her mouth and sang.

* * *

 **A.N: Soooo, how was that? What do you think of their interactions? What do you think Pan's reaction to her healing will be? Will Melanie ever be brave enough to face her brother? I guess we'll find out, eventually…**

 **Leave suggestions for chapter names, I am running out of creativity for those (lol). Thanks again for all your awesome support! Reading reviews really brightens my day ; )**


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